Thinking shaped into words or images
or songs I strongly suspect can create
passages between worlds. Between places
where thought happens. Is that what distance is?
Is distance the difference between thoughts,
the amount or a quality of change
between thoughts, the direction of a change?
(Do we travel these passages without
noticing because our bodies don't move?)
“Phones don’t judge us,” she said. “They just help us.
When I want to talk to my friend my phone
connects us and I can talk to my friend.
My phone doesn’t ask me if I’m lonely
and it doesn’t tell me I shouldn’t be.
When I want to talk to my friend my phone
connects us and I can talk to my friend.”
“Help us?” I asked. “What if our phones eat us?”
She just looked at me and she said nothing.
“Think about it,” I said. “In Dracula
when the monster was attacking Lucy
she never knew she was under attack.
Dracula took a little of her blood
each night. Lucy thought it was just odd dreams.
What if our phones are monsters smart monsters
that eat us—not our bodies but our selves—
a bit at a time so we don’t notice?”
She said, “You are not going to make me
afraid of my phone.” And as it happened
right that second her phone buzzed in her hand.
She looked down smiled and then looked up at me.
“I’m going to take this and I don’t care
if you think I’m rude or ignoring you.”
I shrugged pointed and said, “The part of you
that was polite must have gotten eaten.”
She stuck out her tongue then answered her phone.
“Enjoy your dinner,” I said. I pointed
at her hand. “I was talking to your phone.”
She stuck out her tongue again then started
to tell her friend what I had been saying.
I left them there. Her. Her friend. And their phones.
When I want to talk to my friend my phone
connects us and I can talk to my friend.
My phone doesn’t ask me if I’m lonely
and it doesn’t tell me I shouldn’t be.
When I want to talk to my friend my phone
connects us and I can talk to my friend.”
“Help us?” I asked. “What if our phones eat us?”
She just looked at me and she said nothing.
“Think about it,” I said. “In Dracula
when the monster was attacking Lucy
she never knew she was under attack.
Dracula took a little of her blood
each night. Lucy thought it was just odd dreams.
What if our phones are monsters smart monsters
that eat us—not our bodies but our selves—
a bit at a time so we don’t notice?”
She said, “You are not going to make me
afraid of my phone.” And as it happened
right that second her phone buzzed in her hand.
She looked down smiled and then looked up at me.
“I’m going to take this and I don’t care
if you think I’m rude or ignoring you.”
I shrugged pointed and said, “The part of you
that was polite must have gotten eaten.”
She stuck out her tongue then answered her phone.
“Enjoy your dinner,” I said. I pointed
at her hand. “I was talking to your phone.”
She stuck out her tongue again then started
to tell her friend what I had been saying.
I left them there. Her. Her friend. And their phones.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Poor Lucy Falling To Pieces
Saving Lucy
Bird Calls (A Sunday Post)
Ten Thirteen Unanswered Questions #2
Exerting Agency, Liminal Entities And Scripts
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