light moments

I want to remember
the look on your face
when you walked my way;
the feel of your hand
on the small of my back
when you walked me home.

You must have worn blue;
maybe an overcoat
as we rushed into the rain.

We drank coffee,
talked about writing;
the state of the world.

Did you make an
awkward joke?
Take my hand?
Say my name?

We measure national debt,
average rainfall, yearly income,
overall satisfaction with everything
from online banking to
mail order brides.

We mark height and holidays,
historic moments, essays, exams,
final resting places—
then celebrate or mourn them
with cheesy greeting cards.

We don’t mark
light moments
like we mark the dead.

I want to remember
the look on your face
when you walked my way;
the feel of your hand
on the small of my back
when you walked me home.

A poem about social networking

Social networking

I’d grow wiser if I watched
webcasts of the Dalai Lama.
But, no way I’m leaving Twitter:
I’m being followed by Obama.

What am I doing?
Do you really care to know?
I’m eating lemon pie
And dancing to “Jai, Ho!”

How’d you stumble upon me?
All these passwords; I’m confused.
They own all my content?
We’re the Users and the used.

Now, I won’t be a hypocrite;
I Tweet my time away,
change my status often;
check my blog stats every day.

But if people gave a dollar
for every single Tweet,
homes could be built
and cancer could be beat.

I like to be connected.
I’m not saying that it’s wrong.
But how’d we switch from
talking to texting all day long?

No, I don’t need to know
who your peeps are porkin’
but, no way I’m leaving Facebook:
I’m friends with Aaron Sorkin.