By: Margaret Sproule
Have you ever felt personally packaged:
shrink-wrapped, price-tagged and ready for delivery?
Just another peanut in a sea of styrofoam legumes,
ready to spill out as soon as there’s an opening.
Personal baggage overflowing at the seams,
like a carry-on avoiding fees.
A single pixel of a big screen tv,
every space filled with nothing between.
Everything about the bigger picture,
with no consideration of the means.
Each exhale inhaled by another immediately,
not enough air to breathe.
Was that drip someone else’s sweat or sneeze?
The aroma of perspiration compulsory.
How close is too close?
I’m pretty sure he sat on me.
Strangers jostled in synchronicity,
roughest ride you’ve had since juvenility,
nothing to grasp for stability,
exact timing a perplexity,
the only schedule – serendipity!
The new-age commerce: human delivery.