Life on the Screen

If I’d known what I know now, I’d still have done it anyhow.
I’m not one to disavow the fields through which I ran my plow.

(Hey, do you see that life there on the screen?
Does he think we care about the things he might have been?)

All I am is all I’ve been, and all that I have ever seen,
from the filthy to the clean, the sacred to the most obscene.

(Hey, do you see that life in public view?
Does he think we care about the things he likes to do?)

I look forward and I see the paths of selves I’ve yet to be.
Some don’t look that much like me, though it’s a matter of degree.

(Hey, do you see that life on full display?
What’s he think he’s doing in that spotlight anyway?)

As I sit here and I write, I wonder if this poem is trite?
Will someone read it tonight, and if so, will they think I’m right?

(Hey, do you see that life there being writ?
Don’t you think he’s something of a wordy hypocrite?)

Close the laptop, go to bed, with couplets running through my head:
keep us safe from fear and dread, and give us, please, our daily bread.

(Hey, do you see that life on full display?
What could make him want to let it all just fade away?)

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