There comes an awkward twilight of your life
when speech becomes unnecessary:
when looking at one another is enough
or when there seems to be a stillness
loud enough to keep you awake
past the post-4pm coffee crave.

But that isn't what I am talking about.

I mean the diminutions,
further reductions:
voicemail greetings, commands to Siri.
Substitutions of Snapchats for snapdragons,
complications in 140 characters or less.

What survives,
if only the overture to that Dickensian godsend?
"It was the best of times;
it was the worst of times..."
And will a selfie of you
in front of that Ansel Adams piece
be enough to crack the world in half?



Copyright © 2015 John Grimmett. All rights reserved.

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