(7.21 No.91 —

By Steve Hermanos

Most technology dehumanizes,
Takes us away from other earthlings,
Isolates us in satellite offices,
Or home offices;

We communicate without being anywhere,
When I’m driving, talking on my cell phone,
And the other person,
Is driving too,
The lack of stationary center
Of conversation,
Makes me feel weightless;

Yes I have the iPhone,
The beloved MacBook
(no Dick Tracy watch, yet),
I’m firmly part of our 21st century,
It’s billion cameras,
Watching us 8 billion humanoids,
We’ve shrugged off
Our rights
To privacy,
Too entertained
To assert
Much of anything
Beyond food cravings
Shoe cravings
Memorabilia cravings;

At least love,
It seems,
Isn’t getting thoroughly compressed—
Thank God—
When friends are face-to-face,
And leash their gadgets away,
People remain interested in people,
It seems,
And in love;

When videogames transmogrify into sex games—
Look out!—

But now, July 21, 2015, 6:56:55 A.M.
I’ve got my MLB phone app,
Listen to any game,
Across 3000 miles,
Appreciate the great radio announcers
In Cleveland,
Bone up on Spanish,
Check the standings,
Every player’s lifetime stats,
All in less time than it takes
For Wade Miley
To prepare a pitch;

And unlike TV,
I can paint the house steps,
Clean my desk
(which forever needs cleaning),
Toss never-again-to-be-read books in a box
To go to the library,
Cook Steve’s Spaghetti Dinner;

Yeah, we’ve set ourselves up,
For a nasty future,
But right now,
We’ve got great tech
Bringing us a menu
Of wonderful games;

And this device in my pocket,
A Fitbit,
Which is displaying
That I’ve only taken 435 steps
Stand up and get to work,

—end of poem

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