Connected

Is that how he’s gonna remember you- your face plastered to the screen, as the text spews ominously and superfluous.
Coming from nobody, nobody to him at least.
“I must be a foot note to you.”

How do I know I’m alive, when you don’t see me?

What skill he will have when divorce comes someday, the stretch of words that are never spoken between the living and dead.
OMG- I get the car and you can have the house!
WTF- I’ll take the social inoculation.

Enjoy the love that silence offers.
Digital space and jargon that might as well ease the pool of thoughts you thought you once had.
How was this a gift, when things prettier than me pulled you away?
Shinier things the commercial told me I needed.
Need to be close to “the ones I love”

The studio audience applauds.

Dad just stared in his palm. Dad transfixed on something more essential than me.
How do I exist when you pretend I’m not here?

Niceties shared by crowd noise, silenced by machines.
Your need to connect, while not touching another human soul…

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