Look Up

I wish I could go back to

A time without smartphones

when (the lack of) notifications —

 instant, intrusive, attention-seeking —

wouldn’t make me feel blue.


Perhaps I would find skills to hone or

learn how to play the trombone.

Perhaps I would make a silly schedule and set aside

time for counting stars.


I would heal oft-ignored scars

with indulgent bubble baths

and when the wastage of water

induces my mother’s wrath,

I’d pour her a vodka-tonic from

my father’s mini-bar.


Perhaps I’d plan an impromptu trip

to a village next door,

and escape secretly without

status updates or a social media furore.


Perhaps I’d climb a hillock,

peppered with attention depleters —

Blue Ticks, Read Receipts and Last Seens —

I’d line them up and make them walk the plank.


Armed with my newly found attention span

I’d make my way to the nearest river bank,

where I’d fashion Gods and Monsters out of shape shifting clouds

and be unconcerned with the whereabouts of my man.


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