Icarus
The lifeguard was texting,
the man at the gas station was sexting,
and everyone in the park was tweeting.
And the waiter at Pete’s was instagramming,
and all the diners on the patio
were facetiming, except for one old guy,
stuck in the past, who was actually emailing.
As for the people at the bus stop,
they were just plain old on the phone.
But the little girl at her lemonade stand
on the lawn in front of her house
had her head in the clouds
double parked above the town,
so she was the only one
who saw him fall, the beautiful boy
trailing feathers from the sky
above Cleveland, where basically
nothing ever happens.
—from the collection Blood Pages, available on Amazon.
“My son Michael in the clouds above Berlin last summer. Soon he’ll be texting.”