STROBE MEN

By Sophia Fox-Sowell

But alas, I grow bored with this chase.
I’m too old to play this game.
there’ll always be another mongrel hungry enough
To chase my tail.

Time to check Tinder, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter
Or whatever it is
That will distract me from this silly daydream of my life
And toss me back into a cyber-reality from whence I came.

Where photos force FOMO, and statuses do more than
Adjust that status quo.
Updating once every week is no longer sufficient to
Say your social media is current.
You might as well quit while you’re behind,
The only way to get ahead is to lose your mind.

It’s either follow or be followed.
Followers never lead, they simply have a plethora of paths to walk down,
Which is why they always bow their head.
The leaders of followers,
So self-absorbed in their bubble of conceit,
They’d rather look at their screen than at the pedestrian
Walking in front of their SUV.

Texting while driving is dangerous
Texting while walking is deadly
And texting whilst dating—that’s just sad.

It makes me mad to think that my children will never meet
The way my mom met my dad.

Because it’s too scary to walk up to someone and say,
“I like your shirt.”
It’s much easier to go online,
Make a profile,
Make ridiculous claims about yourself,
Whose chances of being true are rated as slim to none,
Even on a Magic 8 ball.
Now wait.
Wait some more.
Get a hit.
Not interested.
Get more.
Get excited.
Get one that seems okay.
Sift through whatever pictures aren’t private for any hidden gem of their face
That way if you misplace your phone, you’d still be able
To stalk them from memory.

Message.
Message back.
Engage in flirtatious word innuendos.
Meet.
Realize you built him up in your head.
Realize he built himself up.
Go home disappointed and depressed.
Only to check your message board when you get home to see
If anyone contacted you on your date.

So fucking sad.