Unsocial Media

I am a fan of a handshake in person... With a person whose face I see Who sees me... Naked, without earbuds, Fingers free to wave Texting can wait a moment... I've grown numb From the restlessness of having to reschedule time To make face time Connecting to cyberspace And the bullying ignorance Of 'in-your-face-book' I once thought, upon entering a room, Easter morning, some springs ago... How gentle a moment Seeing them there, heads bowed in a shared reflective prayer... Only to realize, I was the one Disconnected, They were dialing, surfing, posting As I, in the doorway, stood Outside, their social circle I am a fan of a well written piece, Clasped in my hands, tangible, tactile.. A feel of truth Factual, not fabricated As much the media frenzied world Projectile vomits, on daily command Regurgitating snippets in viral velocity, indeed, of epidemic proportions... No longer does an impatient lover stand on guard, tethered, anxiously to the anticipation of hearing the phone ring breathlessly answered, with spoken hello... Voice recognition... I am a fan of the evening news, anchored by faces I grew up with Who lend credibility, And compassion, To the late breaking details of stories we hate to hear...played over and over I care not, for the coffee table chatter Of experts-in-the-field of finger pointing Shoutfests of opinionated overstated nonsense that plays like static over the airways Of actuality and practicality I am a fan of watercooler wishes, for a sunny weekend... Cozy corner cafes, where the news of the day Strikes up real live conversation As you can see the dialect of one's eyes Lifted, from the blue light of their phone