My friend, I am a salesman of unimaginable power:
a mirror with a transluscent face
a pool of water filled with wondrous chemicals
from a world you cannot truly see.
My friend, the knowedge of the world lies in your hand.
Not just the words of your favorite people
--those are thrown to the late-night willing--
but also what's happening, what you're doing,
what you can.
You need not step
past the front door whose paint peels, faded,
but you silently admire the green's shine
in the entry-way mirror -- no, the smart phone
is a lifestream: everything you need
from when you push the sheets away
until your eyes close like a burning piece of paper.
You need not go outside!
Trust me: with this phone the world is a cup of fresh water
inside your pocket, to save your mouth
from dryness, a lisp, confusing sentences...
the taste of salt and old kisses.
If you must, this phone has a camera
and inside is a picture of an autumn tree.
I just took it; can you see its brightness?
You need not speak
to the friend to whom you whispered beneath the blankets
"You are my best friend" but haven't seen
since you laughed about compact discs
and how everything was new and expensive
and the phones you gave your children.
Your twentieth high school reunion was months ago
and you will never have to day dream
while staring into a face or an inconvenience again.
You can write her novels for hours.
You will never have to say goodbye.
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