No more guys and girls happily driving
open-air convertible cars on weekends
free of seat belts tethering their bodies,
sweet winds swaying, fighting and playing
with their loose hairs.
children walking on the streets to school,
carrying their notebooks in their arms,
not in backpacks and not on buses.
bicycling around only for pleasure,
without protective helmets and gloves.
family sitting on the front porch after dinner,
sharing the latest neighborhood news.
walking in the fields under the moonlight.
fresh milk bottles delivered to the house, but
milk boxes at immense supermarkets, with
sleepless cameras furtively watching over us.
letters, no business letters, no love letters,
only e-mails to be lost in cyber space.
people greeting each other, even without
parents and all sons and daughters together
going out at night, also together to the church
every Sunday morning, and, every night, sleeping
at home at the same time.
Published in Indiana Voice Journal, February 2017 issue.
Published in Tree House Arts, Jan 31, 2018