Her iPhone may or may not clock-in this morning
At 3% – It was up far too late
But the signal is ever-tired
And the greedy providers get paid anyway
Still she succumbs to
Reaching through screens
Grasping for anything to dry her eyes
Anyone to remind her she’s alive
And not dreaming

Her little box
Is a distant world

Technology offers her sense of gravity
Even if she’s the furthest planet from the sun
Now she knows she’s not the only one
Spinning through her galaxy
But love is far and detached
Like a disoriented scuba diver’s mask
So she can’t really say how long she’ll last
Only she’s relieved to find
There is life on the other end of the telescope
And hope on the other side of the glass

photo credit: Massmo Relsig via photopin cc


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