for all I know
once something is gone
from our personal celestial spheres
it ceases to exist
and is therefore dead
to us
Resurrection, sometimes, comes
in the form of an email virus
-why for heaven's sake is my email
still in your contacts list, I think,
then realize
yours is probably still in mine:
a tenuous connection that nags not,
tugs not on memories
but instead proffers cheap drugs-
or a mutual connection
in the social network game
But these miracles are rare
like finding a worthwhile comment
among all the chaff we create
while touting our blurbed selves
and displaying a remarkable knack
for idiocy delivered in small doses
Or maybe it is I
who have passed
expired into oblivion
being converted into dust
by the trampling of feet above
