Categories
Poetry

Scroll Unfurled

I don’t slide into my slippers anymore.
It’s a struggle to slide
And then I may slip.
And if I slipped I might fall and be down
Looking up, wondering what’s it all for?

You can @ me all day long and after
Our sun sets and returns.
Mentions and tags
That collect in a cloud of digital bags.
Shipped off at gig speed to the place
Our binary code goes to collide and die.

When you die can it trigger a post
That causes those who barely knew you
And those who know the truth,
To come together in false praise
Of the person they imagined you were?
All based on the transmitted wit you’d
Doled out for years. Photos and words.
Lifting the veil, then hiding behind the Syllables. They’ll never know.
They’ll be briefly adrift on the
Posts in your feed, inspecting the digital
Trail for a clue to your demise.
All the while muttering thanks that they
Managed to survive.
Mourning the posts you’d never make,
All those hammy deprecations
And the events you’d say yes to like
The life you’d said yes to that had
Turned on its heel and silently
Issued a definite no.

It goes and goes until the balance is due.
You don’t know the ledger.
You don’t know the means.
However you live: present for others
Or a digital shell full of consumable
Content, you probably won’t see
It coming as they turn out the light
And finally shut the door.


© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

By jebrownwriter

Houston, TX-based Writer and Photographer. Proud pet rescuer who spends nearly all his money on them.

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