Real

My dad is 84.

He was born in 1939.

He told me on the phone today,

“AI

is the next big thing!”

You should get in on the ground floor.

Think of all the people you could reach, 

people in need,

lacking self-esteem.

They all have phones.

I am clinging to my iPhone 8 

and my 2017 MacBook Air

like life rafts.

Said goodbye to social media.

I don’t want to be linked in.

I’m tired of trying to keep up,

and fighting to stay current.

No.

So I just let go.

I’m not here to mass text

or robo call

or email blast 

or write on a wall.

Another empty voice

in a sea of information.

Chasing the newest thing

I have to have.

Waiting in line

to get ahead,

to beat the crowd, 

to be the best.

Losing a race 

I don’t remember why I’m running.

I want space

away from the noise.

That’s where my magic is.

I don’t need to help everyone

and be everything

to be something.

I’m here to go deep.

Heartbeat to heartbeat.

One 

soul 

at a time.

Fuck this.

I’m drowning.

Give me your hand.

I need to touch you.

Feel you, feel me.

I need to look into your eyes.

See you, see me.

That’s how I know

I’m real.