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.