I am always late to the party…
Cringing at the shameless
Displays on Instagram,
Unfollowing dear friends
Because of their dance selfies,
Their Caterpillar poetry
"Blowing a blessing to your soul,”
Astrology and positivity,
Quotes on quotes on quotes.
I can’t take it anymore,
The fake photo filters,
Applied to make their lives look
Like they are worryless,
Without a hint of fear,
Or the fear is forced
For nothing but attention,
Thoughts and prayers.
Don’t get me started
On the dumb-dumbs
Who Tweet about Someone dying,
Like “Can’t believe my wife is dead”
Might as well jump on Twitter
And tell a bunch of veritable strangers
Because it is about me,
after all, after everything.
If you don’t post
It doesn’t count,
And I envy folks like my friend Adam Santiago,
Who is not on social media at all,
The lucky sonofabitch,
Just living his life
Without this anger or that aforementioned need
For outside reassurance.
If the internet disappeared tomorrow,
I would be bummed at first,
And it would take some getting used to,
Going back to using road atlases and shit,
But I would be so happy
And relieved,
And I bet most people would agree.
But then how would we
Figure out who directed The Rock?
We’d manage.
How would we watch videos
Of Dino Gynos?
We’d live
And still laugh.
Probably be happier without.