I hear myself talk
In parenthetical echos
From your downward eyes
While you text
Someone absent,
Yet closer than I;
I hear myself grow silent
As you smile,
Then look up,
Surprised I'm here.

I wake up every morning clutching my reserve
like you clutch your smartphone,
pleading with it in a whisper,
*"Please don't die on me."

Tilted heads stare into spaces.
Tilted heads around dinner tables.
Tilted heads walking down city streets.
Tilted heads as they walk on the beach.

Sitting side by side in street cafes.
Searching postings of weekend retreats.
Never bothered by voices expressed.
Self-absorbed and consumed but never suppressed.

Over-share meals, feelings, and pangs,
GPS tells us your when and your where.
Pictures in mirrors, duck lipped eyes wide.
Never a moment too private, declared!

Be well, be good, and please keep in touch.

Your text read:
My cat died.
Sorry for your troubles.
I was moved,
You couldn't notice.
Mind you,
I don't own a cat, but
I will e-card my condolences.
Had I seen you,
I would have cried too.