The Facebook semblance of life
is a cheap hollow
chocolate bunny
that doesn’t even taste good
from the outside.
Living is not captured
in smiles or poses or
perfected moments
jumping on a beach
in white with all the relatives,
or partying and being bedazzling
when you are 20-some
for strangers and followers
whom you don’t know
and will forget you tomorrow
(or when you become redundant,
boring, older,
or just too real
for comfort
or probing publicity).
I want the pretty.
I want escapism.
I want to see
what I can’t see
from my lackluster
backyard, where the
bird feeders
are always empty
and the garden shed
is an eyesore.
Just write poetry.
Just keep writing
and dreams will come.
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