stood before an automated door
that refused to acknowledge my existence
I thought
but I’m here
& yes
I do remember when time online was
less anxious—not a threat
to national security
democracy
of course
an election is not a cake walk
though strolling & scrolling both
have an idleness inbuilt
the hand towel dispenser
unfurls itself
then stops
as if to say
that’s enough now
even flags
patrolling the breeze
maintain this ironic curl of their lips
as they salute
in the book I’m reading
Shelley has written a letter
accounting for the FOUR DAYS
it will take to reach Mary
to say that he will see her again
in TEN
instead I give you everything
all the time
my metadata
& yes I recall when
I wasn’t so scared to share
whatever was on my mind
with whoever happened
to be online at the time
ask me anything
I had written
anything?
now I watch the candle
folding in upon itself
anxiously encoding its light
upon the ceiling of my bedroom
while I’m up all night
deleting statuses from when I was 19
in case I ever want to get a job
