Nobody Writes Poems About e-mail

Nobody writes poems about e-mail

And of course they shouldn’t

No more than they should about snapping turtles or turtlenecks

Or life or love or the devil’s fiery droppings

But they do

Or I can imagine they do

I can imagine the shape of their poems like

A beautiful woman that exists only in the mind

So they might as well be real

And if they might as well be real, then so as well might be mine

The one about e-mail, I mean

So here it is

A Poem About e-mail To Disprove The Previous Title

e-mail

They say there’s nothing beautiful about you

You’re the death of a former way of life

You’re a grimy little miser with your warty little fingers on the precious little hearththrob of our dear little world

e-mail

They say you’re one more wedge we drive between ourselves

One more thing that separates us from each other

One more thing that makes us alone

e-mail

They have a right to hate you

As they hate death and heartbreak and all those other insignificant things that make them feel

for a moment

unhappy

But they shouldn’t say there’s nothing beautiful about you

With each pulse-flow of ones and zeroes

You beat into the profound sadness of the 21st century

And there’s something beautiful in that.

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