Statuesque

They also vex
Who only stand and text.
In the middle of a crowded space.
As though theirs is a privileged case.
Stopping still to make a call.
Noting nothing odd at all
About the fact they’re *IN THE WAY*
As other folk go about their day,
Taking not one moment of time
To quickly, simply, realign,
Having scanned the general space
In which they’ve taken up their place.
Bereft of basic common sense.
Demanding of an audience.
Not urgent exactly,
Not urgent at all…
So trivial, in fact, as to appal
Busy folk with stuff to do
In an overcrowded human zoo
Of people set like battery hens
Whose very nature so depends
On mobile phones wed to one ear,
Crooked on the shoulder as though to appear
Anatomically natural, a particular feature
Of the twenty-first century Human creature:
A proudly important evolutionary prosthetic,
Which, to be frank, can look quite pathetic,
Scratched and grubby and overused
A fashion paradox, somewhat confused;
Uber-technology glued to the ear
As though nobody shall overhear
Top level secrets of domestic mundanity
(Sparing embarrassment at their inanity)
This reflex action a subtle distraction
Shifting the focus from the nervous reaction
Arising from simply feeling alone
In a crowded space, with a mobile phone…
A cover for the insecurity
Of total social obscurity
Brought about by mass marketisation
Of simple potential for isolation
And costing a fortune across the year
-Is it money well-spent just simply to hear
A human voice, whether friend or foe,
Wherever we should need to go?
A costly technical disguise
For emptiness behind the eyes,
That nagging feeling that nobody cares…
These days, let’s face it, nobody stares.
Except perhaps if fascinated
By the inanities being related…

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