Bzz—is that you?
My pulse quickens,
my whole body awaits.
or an update from the bank,
or a twitch of my leg.
I look again.
Maybe I missed it?
three minutes later.
Bzz—is that you?
It's your name on the screen,
but I don't believe it.
I read your words out loud,
my stomach burns,
I attend to and revere
your every comma.
I write my response ten times,
twelve, each less intelligible.
I picture you across the screen smiling.
I do the same when I write
as if for the public,
but I always write for you.
Then I see you in person
and pretend to be cool.
My whole body fights me.
I can only pretend so long
before I lose.
My hands touch your arm,
as a friend might,
and every muscle itches
to pull you closer.
Can you feel it?
Bzz, again later—is that you?
Or is it only
my heart bursting?
We hiked up to the lake
For we heard that it was beautiful.
After the arduous climb, we found
A small, brown puddle,
Surrounded by patchy grass
In a depression.
Resigned, we sat down to eat
And praised the beauty of the walk,
The blue of the sky,
The green of the surrounding trees.
As we ate, a couple walked behind us
And followed the trail past the puddle.
Exchanging quick glances,
We packed up our lunches
And got up to follow them.
A few steps later we reached the true lake:
Crystalline water surrounded by lush forest,
Snow-peaked mountains on every side
Like a landscape invented for a painting.
The true lake was striking,
But was struck me more
Is that had we halted
A few steps before
We would have been happy with the puddle.
The heat of summer burns in late September
This northern region catching by surprise
Where are the cooler Fall nights we remember?
It's much too late for this July reprise!
The trees pick up their leaves humiliated
At getting caught in mid-undress by sun
The birds turn back their flights infuriated
The pumpkins in their vines shrink one by one.
My senses first delight in this unseason
I take a stroll to witness green's rebirth
Until the thought irrupts—This is not weather!
Have we by industry and human reason
Broken the eternal rhythm of Earth?
How will we ever put it back together?
Got a minute
I'll log on
Hit that like
L O L
Click to share
Got a like
Scroll some more
I should sleep
To complete the poem, picture me frantically refreshing HP to see if people liked it
Memories of light
The cat ready, muscles taut
Pounces at first sight
Laboring for me
The computer's whirring fan
A murmuring brook
As I reached the top of the mountain
Muscle strain forgotten by rapture
I surveyed my new domain from above.
Elated, I shouted: "I am king of this peak
And of all the land below!"
The joy of conquest was interrupted;
Upon the highest rock a chipmunk sat
With scorn, he looked at me and said:
"You are king of nothing
This land is not your own
I was here before you
I'll be here after you're gone.
Your kind is welcome here
To see but not to touch
Much less to claim possession
This land belongs to none."
Abashed, I thanked the chipmunk
And made my way back down.