Catfish is Plural and Singular
guess I’m the catfish now
filtering frown lines
through digital gills
avoiding fish lines
like a whiskered jinn
sucking scum off the river bed
sculling in the mainstream
riling up salmon
with a flirtatious fin
so the fat fish
are delivered fit
for when the real catfish
scam their way in.
The Joy of Blocking
Ingredients
don’t always blend easily;
it takes patience and practice
to thread cold cream into a hot roux.
Too many cooks
lack skill or the desire to learn.
We separate
like yolks from whites
and snap ourselves
into airtight containers,
retreat into flipped-image houses,
on opposite sides
of the aisle.
We order our meals delivered
and having no further use
for kitchens,
(or the clattering chaos
of chefs),
civil
dinner conversation
stops.
We tap in a box
and block.
Life Raft
We all forget in the chaos
of shouting about privacy
and conspiracies
trolls and scams
allegations
and addictions
that billions of
benign interactions
like tendrils straining
toward tenderness
zip around a globe
where a million someones cry
and their faint SOS
gets answered.
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