They promised us jet packs
instead all we got are these stupid phones.
Burn day light batteries by the soft glow
of our smug faces,
but if you need a burrito
I’m the unshowered oracle you have at home.
into a tv dream of fall cardigans, mock turtle,
gray stitch of evening wear perfect for a night on the town
as a nap on the couch. $200.00
if the commercial reminds you of a classier grandpa
instead of the drunk who became ancestor
refusing doctors a hack at his other foot.
And by god
where are the robots,
iron Neanderthals to do the laundry, crush dishes accidentally
with manacles for palms?
I fancied a future where families dressed
to the neon best
wrapped group hugs ‘round contraptions bawling sprockets:
adolescent circuitry at odds with robot law.
Instead, clothes still come in one fashion
per item, no shape shifting nanofibers tailored by our minds,
oh, but the success they’ve had
inducing automatons to cry.
Witness this by the odorless interface, conduit of cell phone towers
to touchscreens, celebrity retweets
ignite rafters of this open air mine.
Yowl and snivel,
sure, me too.
Grinds my gears by the eye sockets
like waking dreams totally recalled. Levi’s,
maybe Apple ads, unsolicited tender access touch my special place:
Memories of first kiss jpeg
renders a weep over adverts
pimping straight leg pairs of jeans.