sometimes I wonder
if it is the exact opposite–

instead of opening up the world
door by door
entering virtual rooms
of texted talking
and mirrored projections
of our public selves,
our carefully constructed conversations
traveling faster
than the speed of sound–
the history of every relationship
transcribed,
day by day,
line by line,
summing up its failure
in speechless abbreviations,

(((Once, while we were taking a walk,
we passed by a group of
dressed and suited executives,
breaking from a meeting.
I watched them file out the back door–
a hundred people–
and not one person 
looked into the eyes of another.
Not one word was spoken
to a real person,
stranger or friend.
Every pair of eyes
was fixed
on the palm
of its hand,
staring into a 
little rectangle of light…)))

what if we are not opening doors,
but closing them,
one by one–
until we are left
alone
in a dark room
with only a two-inch
touchscreen window,
peering out
into flickering light
and from time to time
thumb-swiping the scenery
to change the view.