ode to facetime (11/15/20)

a simple piece of glass—cracked at times—rules

over mountains, canyons:

caravan demands with an icy, firm fist. we

live in strange, almost amusing 

spacetimes. one press of a green button, one

pop of a birthday balloon and i’m there, 

automaton locket clasped.

how could one not be grateful?

diseases take their time, but love letters

take seconds, like neurons on bubbling oil,

laughing, talking, dancing like no one is there in the

looking glass, my sweet, bloody mary, but i 

only cry your name once, and

god, do you think our past lives 

could have imagined this?

talking through our own glassy eyes

instead of on cave walls, or

through a calligraphed mess at a snail’s pace:

sharing dreams, day and night 

through sweet green paper tabs;

as easy as placing computer chips 

on every tongue.