Friend Request Sent

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Friend
You are a contact.
You are a picture on my screen.
You are a man whom I once knew as a boy.
And rather than speak with you again,
I click a button.

Friend.

You are a memory passed.
You are a series of well placed comments
and hyperlinks.

We once were hyper together.
We were once linked.
We used to run though the woods together,
hand in hand waiting for the beast of the forest to announce himself,

and we talked about how we would be fearless, our chests held high.
Wielding wooden branches for protection.
And we would slay that neighborhood monster.

We were invincible, you and I.
But now we are just visible.
As I watch you kiss your lady,
play with your dog,
And ask me for candy crush tokens.

We used to feed off each other.
Now you are just another one finger scroll on my news feed.

Friend.

You were my (knock, knock).
Is he home yet?!
You were My clap, fist bump, fingers like this, handshake spin around double tap.
Now we are just a series of these (thumbs up).

I think about that picture of us.
Outside on our mountain bikes,
with smiles that would make Colgate proud.
It was the day you fell off your huffy.
You skinned your knees real bad.
And we walked 4 bloody miles home,
your arms around my shoulders.

You told me I was a good friend that day.
You were my first one.

Now you are a profile picture that hasn’t been updated in 6 years.
You are a 14 character “happy birthday” one day a year.

Friend.

I thought about getting on my bike yesterday,
And riding to your house.
And pulling a (knock, knock).
Is he home?!

But my digital mind lacks the motivation.
And the more we avoid a conversation,
The more comfortable I become,
lost in a sea of notifications.

-Reese Weatherspoon

2 thoughts on “Friend Request Sent”

  1. Excellent commentary. It is true that we are lost in a sea of notifications and should try to create a genuine bond of friendship between people. At some point we need to stop and notice that there are actual people behind these screens. Of course there is going to be cynics who play the numbers game and only play that. But that should not stop us from seeing behind that screen. I enjoyed your poem very much.

    Like

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