Today's poem is by Albert Goldbarth

Wrist Beep

Once there weren't even cell phones,
hard though it is for a twenty-something
to credit that—but I remember those days,
and we communicated fine. Now, of course,
there are phone/computer/location chips
the size of a grain of rice
you can have implanted in your wrist.

In the detective novel, the wisdom is
don't bother to trail your mark from behind;
he'll be checking over his shoulder
especially to see if he's being followed.
If possible, stay a little ahead of him.

If that's how it works I think I get to say
the future is stalking me.

Copyright © 2017 Albert Goldbarth All rights reserved
from The World of Multicongruencies We Tend to Inhabit Increasingly
New Michigan Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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