The responsible hate anthem of J. Abernathy Thaxton (Part 2)

The gray haze that rubs its feathers on cell phone displays,

The gray grease that rubs its claws on cell phone displays,

Pecked its beak into the corners of the internet,

Lingered upon the meme that festers and pays,

Let fall upon its head the lies that festoon in chat rooms,

Slipped the hyperlink, leapt all subtle truth,

And seeing the soft blue screen glow,

Flew all about the house, and crapped on the roof.

Perhaps there will be a time

For the gray mist that permeates the web,

Rubbing its head upon cell phone displays;

There may be a time, maybe time

To simulate a face to digitally meet the faux faces you meet;

There will be a time for this murder to create,

And for all the widgets and days of email

That ping and plop a query in this debate;

Time for simulacra and time for simulacrum,

And time still for fabricated inquisitions,

And perhaps time for engineered decisions,

Before the making of clicks and comments.

At the poolside women sit and drink

Talking of a new kitchen sink.