Like fake windup teeth, they chatter on like a cheap gag
hackers, spammers and hangers on, all sapping space
saved for clarity; no clue, they’re all ego, needy strokes,
recognition, checking in, checking on and confirmation
that still, yes, I do exist; your real is genuine connection,
beat loneliness and worthlessness, valueless monied air.
Make room, clear the questions like “What’s for dinner?”
and “Will this be on the test? and “Why?” ask 3 year olds
only to make conversation, believing sounds substantive:
tone of voice, letters on leaves, form-words, voices heard,
prayers moaned, pledges recited, dreams told, signs read,
memes scrolled, billboard philosophy, sext-up proposals,
cyber poke, lol jokes, ping backs, whistle blows, doorknock,
chicken scratch, empty glances on empty screens beckoned
by meaningless noises and jibberish symbols to break down,
take chances, reach in and virtually blow long-wound spew.
And the whistles moaning the cracked window seals sound
chatter in storm-whisking trees felled by dull, dry tongues.
credit: likeclockwork.biz
In the gaze of the other 