blue screen

living in computer generated space

becomes an exercise in disappointment

of being alone

of missing out

of waiting for that next email

or text

that will connect us 

to that which makes us feel

so much smaller

than we really are

i want to escape from behind the desk

with the computer

with the glowing screen

with the constant ping

of letters from the rev mrs isaiah watson

whose husband just died

but in the lord

who wants my social security number

to deposit millions from an overseas account

and the ads from the merchant where 

i just shopped over the weekend

reducing me to an object 

to be used

manipulated

and I smile

too smart for that

deleting the email

but not turning off the 

screen

not leaving the office

afraid of what real life might 

have to offer