tell me you post pictures on the internet
because if you don’t
uh, what are you waiting for?

no phone numbers for talking just for
typing, shorthand’s become so short I write in
acronyms these days:

cyum?

what’s your url? are you on the up and up
latest network, track me down with two clicks:
chat til past midnight, for you it’s only eight.

handwriting is unimportant, no one
owns pencils much less pens –
my mom told me once about ‘typewriters’
and ‘cassette tapes’ and i was just like
“wtf are those?”

your methods of communication are extinct
just when you scrounge up enough
room around credit card debt to
buy the latest gadget, the newest techno-drug –

e-vite me to your next party;
corners filled with buzzing, tiny blue glow
illuminates your face,
-send me yr pic?-
“isn’t he hot?”

in a century, our voices will be gone for good
because lately sore throats don’t even matter.

I don't own a cell phone.
Falcon