I was trying out some reading room space
for a change of pace
from the suburban Eastside boredom
ho hum.

A critically-acclaimed edifice
But I have to wonder: What’s the fuss?
I think that you shall not see
me again at the Seattle Public Library!

The connections are slow!
And where does one go
for computer power plug in?
It seems a technological sin
to have reading cubes
where you have to be rude;
get in someone’s face
’cause there’s four outlets in the place!

What were they thinking?
Were the planners all drinking?
If you’re going to flaunt technology
have enough power for he, she, us, them, me!

No, I do not think you’ll see me
Again at the Seattle Library.

I never knew
how much I’d hate it
when it came into view
that she was Twitterpated.

Being the social media guru
I of course encouraged it!
And so she went through
LinkedIn, MySpace, Facebooked!

Through the Blog-o-sphere
off she ran,
until she found someone more dear
than I am.

And now she found she’s again someone’s sweet;
and get’s caressed by his hourly Tweet.

An eternal question: Why is it so much easier to get the hugs we want than the hugs we need?

The hugs we want
come from our greed;
which is more easily seen
than the hidden what we need.

Our greed is exposed
with a yell and a shout:
“Give me something NOW!
I can’t do without!”

But the need doesn’t show;
it in our shadow resides.
And even friends don’t know
what we choose to hide.

But sometimes someone with vision and clarity
hugs us, seeing what we’re afraid for them to see.

I wonder if Columbus felt this way,
with the dawn of every bright new day.
Did he rejoice at something new to be uncovered?
Some virgin, uncharted territory to be discovered?
Or I wonder if he got tired of waiting;
grew weary of antici…

She said that the beauty
of my poetry
touched uncharted territories
of innocence
with no defense…

So, with a sigh
replied I and I:

“Then I shant write any more poetry
for thee!
I reject the type of violence
that takes advantage of the innocence
by opening up uncharted, defenseless territories.”

“Quite dangerous,
your poetry!”
is what she one day
said to me!

My poetry, dangerous?
Why? and how?
Tell me, please!
Tell me, NOW!

Reveal to me
Regardless if you be
Catholic, Agnostic, Lutheran!
Tell me, quickly!

Speak in prose,
or verse Seussian*!

(*It’s his birthday today,
by the way!)

She seemed romantic,energetic,
and yet
a few lines of tempting emails
was all I could ever get.

She stayed distant, aloof,
yet was fully aware
that there was safety and protection
so long as she stayed “out there”.

She would honestly open her soul
and let me peer inside
but only for a fleeting glimpse;
then she’d close up and hide.

Promising that more would come; smiling at my persistance.
Staying, still, safe inside her home, protected by distance.