gist

My dear sir:

So what do you think? About

the fake baby nonsense. About

the convenient appearance of photos. About
images floating digitally in the electronic minds of  

cooing unwanted aunties.

And where did you go? Festooned

merrily in your habiliments. Adorned

with mystical medallions. Strapped

into spellbinding boots. Meant to

placate masturbating geeks and nerds.

You achieve lexiconic perfection.

Yet you no longer satisfy

me. Provide gist for my mill.

Oh how cliché…

You leave me no choice but

to back pedal. Reach

for the unreliable. Return to the impossibility of

mercurial silence. To bide for a time. Unsafe.

©kcasady2016