Phone Home Poem by Denis Mair

(---in response to Nico V's wittily fractured remark, 'there's no place like phone.')
...............

A phone is no place, in front of which

we have plunked ourselves to zone out,

or to 'home in' on our personal Oz...

our own conflated confection...

our synopticon thru which we keep tabs

on wards of the hospital state...

at the same time admitting ourselves...

and being carried on an AI tsunami...

mainlining news that most titillates or exacerbates...

bemused and being amused by a whirl

of different people's imaginative snowflakes...

walking down a virtual exhibition corridor

that takes shape just ahead of my feet...

and that is why I have spent a chunk of morning

'chez mon téléphone portable.'