From the windows of my soul,
I watch the world go by—
my eyelids like shutters
that close during a storm,
blocking out all the unpleasantness.
I check out at the supermarket,
the cashier sneaking glances at her cell
as if it’s a secret lover,
while the bagboy tries to decipher the clock—
the kind with hands that move
rather than numbers that blink.
I hand the check to the cashier
who squints at my neat script
as if it’s scrawl on a prescription,
and I leave the store,
having not uttered a word.
It was at Granddad’s funeral
that an old acquaintance showed up,
and stood right by me.
His name was engraved on my brain,
embedded in the wrinkles of my cerebrum—
a labyrinth of memories and knowledge.
When they came looking for me.
it was as if I was invisible,
as if I was less than glass.
It was as if I had never even been there.
mourning my friend,
and I, in black against the snow,
was like a lump of coal.
Though I tread with a slow gait,
through this valley of flickering screens,
it is like I am on fast forward,
for I am but a blur who disappears.
My presence is felt the same
as my absence.
I create my first account to stay relevant.
I search for a friend,
I articulate a thought,
the keys tapping like shoes on the sidewalks
of the information superhighway.
I am heard by someone far away,
but I know if I was there,
I would disappear again
because whatever is going on elsewhere,
is always more exciting than what is going on here,
no matter where here is.
I saw you the other day.
I had friended you,
and you looked right through me.
It was the first time we had met,
and when I unfriended you,
it was as if it had all never happened.