what if we never were alone?

Just past the post,
keep walking. 
Let your neck flex,
eyes raise, and 
lock on a few future
intents.
Have patience. 
Be gracious,
unfazed. 
Then, step away
from devices. 
Let loose 
from disguises and
expect some fatigue;
face to face
is hard 
with all of
this noticing
without
notifications. 

post

What does it mean to 
follow someone?
Really, break it down for yourself. 
I do. 

Often.

If I go literal on this, 
I would stay close, 
pay attention, 
mirror this or mirror that.

But what else is it?

I trawl for purpose, wisdom, truth, 
and throw back wishful. 

A fresh feeble view 
can often benefit 
from a few more laps around 
the pond.

Sometimes ‘like’, 
sometimes just smile. 

Though my smile these days pushes 
the limits of my mouth guard. 
I am all back teeth and cheek 
and head shaking most times.

I force myself to stop 
scrolling the minute 
my kids walk in the room, 
but leave my thumb on the 
screen to hold my queue in 
the feed.

There once was joy 
in following. 
You know finding the gold, 
sharing the gold, 
seems like there's not much 
ore left in some spaces, 
they are almost completely mined, 
like me, tapped out.

But what else is it?

I am a someone that 
follows and unfollows. 
I am a headache causer. 
I don't seek permission to 
make you wonder about me.

I have been blocked for messing 
with an algorithm. 
An algorithm! 
Not a person, or a heart, 
or someone's life thank god.

And I block every ad and 
promoted tweet in under 2 seconds 
like a carnival game and the 
big pink gorilla is up for grabs.

I have sub tweeted when I 
should have DM'd; 
DM'd when I should have not. 

Done nothing and missed 
my opportunity to be human.

And I have been called out 
as rude for giving no notice 
before I leave a feed. 

Its all good though I did 
notice that you did not 
notice. 

Thanks for that.

But that is me, 
I'm in the parking lot 
and hitting the freeway 
before last call. 
Lights up brings too much 
reality for my taste.

But what else is it?

I have questioned questions 
and then waited for answers.

Given the answer that was 
asked for. 
Withheld when I did not trust. 
And expected trust in full payment. 
Ironic, idiosyncratic, and insecure.

I often pushed topics  back and 
forth, like the moment was a 
swing for my enjoyment only.

I have erased all of you 
from my feed, started over, 
only to add you again. 

Some noticed, some did not.

But what else is it?

I have wondered why someone 
would say such a thing, 
then wished I'd said it first.

Then realized had I said it, 
I would have wished I hadn't, 
but then still claimed victory 
for liberally thoughtful 
bystanding.

I have erased hot blooded 
posts to a single letter, 
thought better of it, 
rewrote, 
erased, 
rewrote, 
erased 
etc. 

I have joined your 
bandwagon. 
And waited for you 
to join mine. 
And waited. 
And waited.

But what else is it?

I have wondered what 
would it be like if I took 
my tail from my mouth and 
stopped swallowing. 
But sometimes it is easier 
to keep chewing than 
to stop and gag.

I wanted to drop socials 
altogether, but then my 
mother would never connect 
with me because I don't 
call her much.

In truth the last time I 
left socials, it took her 
4 weeks to notice. 
And she thought I had 
blocked her. 4 weeks?!

Digital debris, shored up 
with hubris, is like that 
megaball rolling towards any 
explorer willing to try 
spelunk my thoughtfuel. 
So recounting me through 
every bit and byte is 
dangerous or not if you 
didn't follow.

But what else is it?

bug light

it's the glow that held my focus,
at first, 
then it choked us.
blue, mesmerizing blaze, and 
all other awareness fades.

in a broken sense really,
that my post looked willing. 
and i waited longer than 
I'd like to admit.

to see your purpose,
this became my circus.
to collect, to like,
to share faded parts of intent
and the hope that you'd share fact
and now I own the fact that I have led 
others here too.

could be that  following me
their spark ups, little impacts
can be seen at a distance
little impacts of little deaths
piling up on the ground below your bug light

there's no mistaking this mistake
your warm bait hides a
lobster trap of an invitation.