Thursday, June 18, 2020

The Grid

Sorry, guys its a topical poem. 


Here is my horror about Zoom calls.
Or any remote chat rig, to be honest
Their intimacy.
Peering into others homes, seeing
Piles of laundry
Dogs licking themselves
And, forget to mute yourself and yell
At your kids
Your spouse
Fuck, no. I am on a call.
A few more minutes, I think
Have three of these in 24 hours
This is what the President must feel like
That fuckhead, also applies to multiples on these calls

There is also the slow horror that they can see back to me
Permanent scuff marks onto the paint and divots in dry wall
I need a strong background. Family pictures and sports memorabilia
To end that fear when it inevitably returns
When you realize you've fantasized to four of the participants
On this call, but not on the next one.

A horrible burden it would be to read minds 
Peering into the grid, lines of codes and glowing pixels
Hearing these calls and knowing what all people think.
Mostly that you're boring. 

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