The Social Animal

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I want to keep a quiet heart like Elisabeth Elliot did

but

to keep one I have to have one first, I gather.

It’s not easy.

(I add to the noise in the world, sometimes,

while wishing I hadn’t.

And sometimes I just soak in the static because

Breaking!

You won’t believe it!

Outrageous!

Fools!

Idiots!

Look over here!

Click, click, click on it.

Oh! and

please, pay

no attention to the Man behind the curtain

unless you mean to buy

something

from him).

 

 

Alive

When I look through the glass of your little box and see something sort-of like you,

an amoeba swimming on jelly who looks good to me

because I cannot see the hard edges, I get thirsty.

But if I log off, if I feel dog fur and trace the blond streaks in my real daughter’s hair,

I can feel my feet again on the cold floor.