Ah, cell-phones:

I know it dates me
and sounds crotchety
but oh how I miss
the old days
when talking
to yourself
in public
meant you were
crazy, probably
schizophrenic,
maybe dangerous
or possibly
a saint or mystic
with a direct
line to god.

Now it's just a
helicopter mom
calling her
daughter away
at college
for the third
time today
to reassure
herself the girl
can't exist
without the
eternally
present sound
of her voice
giving advice
the kid probably
won't follow
anyway.

Joan of Arc
was burned
at the stake
for listening
to the disembodied
voices that
assault us
wherever we go,
every day.

Doesn't Seem fair.

I wonder who
has that stake?

  ~mce