P O E T I C S

The Poetry of Michael Langston


(73) FRUSTRATION SUPERHIGHWAY

I've sadly become
a groveling dog...
self-chained to my computer,
hungrily devouring
mere morsels and scraps
from life's lavish table:
leftover words tossed out
in cold, scanty emails,
an unsavory diet
of bone-hard text.

I long to again be a man
with a real-life existence,
to hear the sweet sound...
of a soft voice once more,
to behold the dear sight...
of a fair face like before,
to again feel the touch...
of a warm, caring hand.

So forgive me if I fail
to respond to an email;
excuse me if I choose not
to post a new web page;
my heart's no longer in
this thankless endeavor.

I prefer to have friends
that I can hear, see, and feel.

I prefer to have friends
who are substantive and real.


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