The Fourth Dimension

Seeking sight of another’s like for what thine own eyes like, Perchance a Starbuck drink ye’ drunk, or a sun dunked up a hike. For whom the post has pretended to be presented, I surely no longer know, Perhaps for a spirit we’ve seem to’ve invented, Who exists only in lists of those it follows. The afterlife has come before us as an image upon a screen, Which we recount the life we think is ours as other’s should’ve have seen. We live there now, you’ll not be right back, For acronyms are now our daily diction, Rather than quick click-clacked lip smack, Once meant for nonce instant self-depiction. Welcome to the internet, which now the young claim to be Earth: A tesseract whose fourth dimension is where they live from birth. 5/16/18