memes.

 (why do) I hate watching other people on their phones. 

Their scrolling, swiping, chuckling, 

Over a small screen angers me. 

I’m annoyed by their engagement

In ways that I’m not annoyed by  

A stranger reading a book at the cafe, 

Someone strolling with headphones, 

Watching someone's face light up when they 

Answer the phone and hear 

A friends voice, 

The smile on someone's face when they open the kitchen oven, 

And the scent of their baked good wafts through the room. 

Other people sit around, 

Scrolling through glimpses into 

Other people’s lives, 

Sometimes laughing to the point of tears, 

Over other people’s performances, 

And curated lives. 

Asking me to come “look at this”

Spamming me with links 

Like inside joke love bombs 

Of the sweetest intent, 

To indicate to me, 

That they saw something 

I too would laugh at

And what a special thing it is

To know what makes another person laugh. 

But the line between 

Real and AI is blurring 

Is that a real man lifting a barbell 

Is that a real baby dancing? 

Is that kid really doing the darndest thing? 

Or is it some kind of simulation? 

Scroll 

To 

The 

Next 

Never

More 

Than 

20 

Seconds 

Or 

You 

Get 

So 

Bored 

They’re laughing again, 

Squealing now, 

It’s a good one, 

They’ll share shortly. 

You never know, 

You might even cry over it too. 

Maybe for different reasons, maybe for the same? 

But I”m mad. 

I’m not sure why entirely though. 

I’m brewing tea and pondering it. 

Am I mad because I want real art not AI creations? 

Am I mad because I hate how everything has to be funny? 

And all the other feelings, even silence, don’t have space. 

The present moment feels 

Pushed out. 

Or maybe I”m mad because 

My life isn’t that funny 

And you don’t laugh that hard with us in real life…. 

My water is boiling, 

The tea begins to steep in earnest. 

Lavender, 

A warrior ill prepared for the task of calming me down. 

No, I’ll probably walk a wide circle around 

The social media 

Addict 

And eventually 

In time 

Be sucked into my own algorithm. 

And our conversations become memes and funny reels 

Passed back and forth. 

And I’m not sure what we’re saying to each other anything - 

Everything is recycled content - 

Distraction 

Abstraction 

Contraction. 

Everything contracts into the square. 

To watch

To record

To perform

To share. 

And yet, the thumbs up for everyone. On the house, no limit. 

Like the passing nod of a head on the busy street, 

Making brief eye contact with the stranger, 

Walking the other way, 

A moment together. 

Completely apart in a thought 

In a feeling 

Other than 

Sharing the space 

Of seeing the thing.