A thought. (Not a poem, I repeat. Not a poem)

Here we are.

Splaying our faces on the internet

for every stranger to see, they could

hold a mesh screen to their

faces to pinpoint all the people

and in it they see me and they see you

pouring our lives through fingers

on the internet. Throw darts at our faces, and

our hearts, our mouths and our tired eyes

and our slumped heads on keyboards

and through webcams

And, our children, when they see this

this giant history book, this greying ghost town

will they laugh at our stupidity?

Will they be smarter than us? Go, oh mama

why did you pour your heart out on the internet?

why did you put your face up there

every day? Mama, didn’t you think

about someday when you were gonna run the country?

Baby, I was never gonna run the country.

But someone else will

and right now they’re leaving their fingers all over the internet.

Sonya Brickell Clark