GRIZZLY PEAR

written snapshots

The dinner jousted over the undulating dearth and glut of technology.

They took the iPad during our zoom call,
And hid under a pair of blankets,
To squirm, laugh, giggle, squawk, fidget, and squeal.

They insisted I join the call on my iPhone,
To transmit this fuzzy, pulsing grey blob to the family.

“At your age, grandpa got our first video camera, much less eight.”

She wants her own phone, like her friends.

“You don’t need a phone, just use my my number.”
“When I was a boy, we only had one phone in the whole house.”
“Mommy shared a phone at the apartment headquarters.”

“How come you old people always talk about the past?”

bitter festival
pigs and fishes
an ocean of bits
wooden boat