The longer I stay away from people
The less human I become
Wondering if there’s something
Wrong with me
Because I don’t miss
the frenetic motion of my old life.
The less human I become
The more I embrace this virtual world
Where I find connection
And acceptance in likes and loves
Follows and re-Tweets
Even selecting produce online
Where I can’t tell if it’s overripe
Or bruised to be delivered to my door
By a masked man
A lone ranger without his sidekick
And left just out of reach
Pre-paid with plastic, tip included
Interrupting the daily briefing
That I know I shouldn’t watch
And the next day, I think it’s a joke
Something from The Onion
Until I watch the clip
And face the chilling reality
That he really said that
And I feel less human, less real
In this, the new Twilight Zone
Eileen Vorbach Collins writes creative nonfiction and, on the rare occasion, poetry. The poetry is usually after she’s run screaming from watching the news. Her work can be found at www.eileenvorbachcollins.com
Twitter @evorbachcollins