10.18.21

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We're in a push the button decade.

We're wordless and far away

from the ones who might inspire

a poem, a tear, a blush.

​

Go ahead and push the button.

I love you. I'm done.

30 minutes on the phone.

I'm so fucking drained.

​

A million messages sent to me

from I don't know where.

I don't know what they mean

or how they concern me and my life.

​

Push the button is good, I guess

for food. One to four minutes

for steaming food across the plastic door.

No wonder we're so done with life.

​

All the molecules are dead.

Electrons stopped spinning life.

Our bodies' futile push

to produce on piles of rigid dust