A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Saturday, January 01, 2022

like it's like

I feel like it's like 
I'm famous and like 
interacting in a heartfelt 
snark way with the social 
media people but don't really 
talk about my personal life? And 
then my girlfriend just stopped 
appearing in everything? Where 
she had been in half the things, 
thereabouts. So 

I mean, 
it took about a week or so 
but people started piping up. 
Chiming in in comments, hey 
is Heather okay? Or hey are you 
and Marjorie doing fine? Or 
you get the idea. Whatever 
the hell her name is they're asking
and "interested," whereas 

I'm like half these people 
just pop in every sixth post or so 
and nobody reads all the prior comments, 
so either I do a whole big "explanatory 
post" which half won't see, or 

I commit myself to updating 
people a thousand times on the one-to-one 

'til I finally explode somehow 

and it's just not worth it. So 
I don't even answer, not even 
the first one. I just appoint myself 
the keeper of the business and 
go on about my heartfelt snark 
in blithe blinders mode not noticing 
the presumptuous and unwarranted 
impositions of familiarity. She's 

fine. 

We're fine. 

She just became a nudist okay? 
It's none of you peoples' business
her personal decision sans clothes  
and you know the platform standards 

will not allow it. There's no way 
to make this plain when 
everybody's so used to my heartfelt 
snark they think the whole thing's a prank 
ten different incompatible ways. "Oh 
they just decided hey what if you 
disappear without notice? People 
will be all like hey what!" Or "What 
if to cover for your 'absence' I make up 
a titillating, assulating ahemulating 
story about it to put you in their 
eyes and mind that way?" 

Do you think she and I 
would indulge in such childish 
pranks when we've filled your feed 
with childish pranks for the past 
2 years, 8 months, 14 days 
and 5 hours and counting? 
Yeah, you probably do 
and people? That's 
part of the problem, 
and why I refuse 
to explain.  

Make up your own explanation 
and believe it: she 
and I 

are fine. 

That's what I feel like it's like 
except I'm not famous, ergo 
none of the other shit happened 
either. Still. 

Sometimes it's like that 
even when it's not like that 

and can never be like that 
again

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