Life Beyond a Cell Phone
Plugged-in, they drop out of nature
like zombies on a moon walk
Plugged-in, their nervous systems evolve
like crack addicts lurching for a hit
Plugged-in, they forget the color of the sky,
the sea, the backyard juniper trees;
they eat and text, ballooning up like bloated
cows at an alfalfa festival
Plugged-in, they deafly call and dumbly listen,
robotic responses from robot minds.
Plugged-in, and connected, they disconnect
from all but a narrow screen, a stream
Of nothingness infused with meaning by peers,
sanctioned by parents eager to please
Plugged-in, they spiral earthward, numbed
by indulgence and self-gratification,
staring into cyberspace, androids waiting
for the next message affirming existence,
fearing an unplugged universe full of
stars, planets and possibilities.
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