Marginalia

There’s nothing on my phone 

that’s good for me right now

but I keep picking it up.

There’s nothing on my phone 

even remotely useful

in this moment,

yet my sneaky right hand won’t stop

gliding

like a pickpocket on a packed train,

reaching for that smooth 

cool glass

until suddenly —

I’ve unlocked the screen 

with my tired look of surrender

once again.

Yes it is,

it is indeed,

a stunning piece of technology.

And yes, it contains

the entire history of human knowledge.

But can all that 

knowledge really compete

with the warm Spring breeze 

galloping through these blooming

birch trees?

The gurgle of a nearby stream,

our out-of tune teapot whistling

a sweet harmony

alongside the yelps and yawps of

my toddlers

as they turn over stones

revealing all the squirming

new life 

underneath?

What could possibly be 

on that lurid rectangular screen

more urgent than this? 

All the human knowledge i need

has to be right here 

right now

right in front of me.

Isn’t that enough?

Isn't everything enough?

Who said that?

I don’t know —

hold on a sec

while i look 

it up.