"I'm not a robot,"
you tell a web page,
mildly befriending the rage.
Monkey's in the wild,
the coffee's spilled.
What was it again?
A rupture of skin and lids flutter
Open and close
Open and close.
Lets type and text
If I could just make sounds, just like:
Sitting behind screens
Face glowing from the pictures and typed words of others
Whatever happened to romantic letters?
But if you wanted to book me a ticket to Chile
I would put my phone away.
Glancing over at Long Eyelashes
He's sliding, swishing, tapping
All the screens
Just look at me.
But I'm just as guilty
Television screens and news articles
Everyone has something to say
But lets get up
Virtual talking heads hit "like" a thousands times
Robotic mechanical skeletal beings
And if you asked me, ya know--through a text message:
"What do you wanna do, dude?"
I wanna have influence in this short life.
So I put the phone down
And meet you for a cocktail at 5pm.
— The End —