Snapchat Lullabies

Sleep swims slippery

through this seine of mine tonight,

I reach over to the nightstand

and hold the world in my palm –

even when the world is distant

I seek what is spare,

I seek out the edges.

I click on tiny blue circles

along the lakes and rivers as I move north –

tracing pulsing forget-me-nots in a lonely field:

a woman hikes up a trail with a Husky in Iceland,

the dog eats blueberries.

Wisconsin, Canada, Russia, up and over –

A man jumps off a dock in Alaska,

should the water be that warm?

it’s light, nearly midnight, in Norway.

A toddler on a deck somewhere in Canada

jams three huge plastic Tonka trucks

under his chin and says he is leaving;

the adults laugh, but he is mad.

A man tries to put a bunk bed together,

his girlfriend documents his failure.

Drunk Koreans dance at a club,

swaying close together, in solidarity.

Car after car, highways and dashboards

and roadsides appear

all over the world, ditches

and railings, sliding by.

Pop music plays in

girls’ bedrooms,

and on the screen is scrawled

inspirational sayings:

You Got This

and Wake Up and Be Awesome.

A man on a rooftop

raises a beer

for us.

I lie

on my half

of this raft of a king-sized bed,

floating on this rolling ocean

and peering through the mask of others

across the world –

my paw dipping in and out of this fish tank

where life bubbles and whirs

in plastic castles under the surface,

where they all,

no, where we all

fling open the shutters

before the predatory eyes,

eyes that roam and feast upon the glittering spread,

eyes that eat and eat and eat

and can never be full.

I pause and then I move on

to another snapshot,

another slice,

I move on to

someone else’s story

with an ending

that I can’t see coming.

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