A Poem a Day (212): A life of consumption

A life of consumption

I sit and dream of dreaming sometimes.

A simple thing, slumber in mid-thought,

Watch a spider spin his daunting task.

And I forget to ask the imposing “why?”

Why are there days that linger like this?

Why are the years pegged so oddly?

Why track the life of a stranger unknown?

Why do people monitor or abuse each other?

Life, unfolding like a book, shouldn’t be read.

There are clear signs where and when to stop;

A conscience and moral code are signifiers.

Enjoyment of torment is not a green light.

And so we dream of cutting ties and running

Where he can’t follow and he can’t find us,

Taking our keys so he can’t try to copy them,

Hiding ourselves so he can’t slander us more.

It isn’t for public consumption unless we say

And it’s childish to assume we know everything;

People normally know parts and live with it.

Someone’s life is their own – it isn’t yours.

In this time of downloading everything,

Instead of buying we consume it all online.

My generation will be the last collectors.

And he is unsure where privacy draws a line.

Even consent is confused: no means no.

There is no ambiguity when someone tells you no.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 16, 2020