Good Morning, Global Village
I sit alone in my confined closet
The world at my fingertips,
Fingering the sensual studs that allure me
To this Black Berry;
Browsing the bloated British bulletin,
“Oh! Did you hear?
The prince of England is getting married.
Obama care is now a law.
Thousands have died off the coast of Lampedusa.”
But who gloats in that sumptuous villa
Across the quarantined street?
Another zombified recluse?
I devote the sleeping nights to reading.
I waste my recreational days alone;
Listening, watching, facebooking, tweeting,
Laughing with other global citizens on this unreal interface.
Sunsets are for walks in the woods.
The weekends are casual;
A hood for the head and some hi-fi headphones
Probably shopping at the mall.
(Riffling through the shelves for fat-free yoghurt
I bet you are cognizant of obesity)
Are those uncultured till operators discussing books?
What do they know about “being and nothingness”?
The evenings are the most private;
7 pm: “It’s BBC Focus on Africa with Akwasi Sarpong.”
But I yearn to experience the violence of Benghazi.
My soul hankers for the unreal city,
The metallic grins and sterility of London.
My civilized mind aches for belonging.
And yet when I wake up tomorrow
In my solitary confinement,
I will yawn a smile and update my status:
“Good Morning, Global Village!”
(Chang Yen and 63 others like this).
(c) Wesley Macheso