Opium and Prose

Computer, phone, expletive, phone, doorway, chips, phone.
Shining bluish threads exercise on a brown suede couch
“so, hey…. Is the internet down? Hear that sound?”

Eyes flick up, trying to engage, revealing a distant focus
Halting and weary they resume spasms inside the digital corral.
Earbuds whine a slick pastiche of golden faded sounds
One dangles heartward, strung over a lobe, fastened in canal.

Shorts worn to brown, riding simple socks and crumb from forgotten meals.
Nothing short of time has drowned, the feeling is rather surreal.
Lightly when they start their seeking, all rising from a curious
Tone and sudden mental flailing I give my brain a bone.

Perchance my only reckoning in this vast and electric hail is that
I’ve managed to put off paying the bills and checking through my mail.
When suddenly after hours engaged in vapid frantic glance
I hear the shuffle across the floor of the jabberwocky dance.

This surely was predicted and my heart does skip a beat,
Flinging off my clothes in the sudden baking heat. My torpor is
Complete and naked drums I pound and stroke, the giving is in
the living and it’s a wonder we all don’t choke.

~Apologies to Lewis Carroll~