He checks the mail every day,
hoping to find that message,
something unsolicited, not in
reply to his soft, first serve of
inviting words. He so hates
that image of himself, begging
behind a mask of rhetoric.
When it never comes,
he crafts another alms cup from
zeroes and ones to send
to those he wished would care.
Those, or just one, he hopes
would feel as he does, braving
a different kind of spidery
consummation from across the web.
He’s hoping on a dream he knows
will never come near true.
But dreams have kept him company
forever, it seems,
in that darkness before sleep,
when he sees a face, and feels a touch,
and breathes a taste of imagined joy.
Even with the immediacy of light, modern communication still boils down to two people expressing themselves to one another. Yes, it still takes two, no matter how hard a compulsive and obsessive “one” wishes and frets. Just as in the wax-sealed words on paper days, sometimes the message is in what you don’t see or hear.