Cold Dead Hands
Ashley likes her artisinal groceries selected for her
some already prepared, ready to cook —
comfort food Amazon’d to her door.
She’ll check the trajectory of that Prime package
on her app, as she watches Bourdain on the Tube.
Christopher prefers audio books
because, you know, well . . . reading
having to sit, eyes moving along, word after word
Time tick Time tick Time tock —
reading means giving up doing something else!
But now with earbuds he can multi-task — drive, vape, text—
while, um . . . reading.
He likes it even better when it comes with commentary
so he doesn’t risk misunderstanding.
And best when it’s already a TV show.
Opioids also numb, and religions; on epidemic scales —
but without the excitement of that little red notification
that says You’ve Got Attention.
Pavlov smiles from his grave at the marimba ringtone chime.
The little colored candies get arranged,
the coupons and tickets downloaded.
Browsing, Tweeting, the photo of lunch posted,
Political rage shared, diffused.
Poses F-book’d and I-gram’d.
Updates of the prince’s progeny Googl‘d by the peasantry.
Late breaking report on social media identity thefts.
Touch ID and make a restaurant reservation
pay for dinner from a digital wallet, and order an Uber home.
Our Lady of Convenience
Bring us your distracted, your anxious,
with indulgence and privilege for all.
In the name of Virtual Reality, Artificial Intelligence,
and Holy Face Recognition, Amen.
Now that they are walking into walls, being run over by buses,
binge-watching into stupors,
and drooling all over themselves —
there’s talk of passing laws, to control the screens.
But it’s too late.
A spokesman stood at the National Gizmo Association
proclaiming that the only way they’ll get his hand-held device
is to pry it from his cold dead hands.
© AleXander Hirka 2019. All Rights Reserved.