Communication is an art,
In this life you must take part.
Phone attached to your persona,
Keeping you in its corona.
Cell is phone, phone is cell,
In prison, where connected dwell.
At your desk, in your car,
When you travel, near or far.
At the table, in your bed,
In your skin and in your head.
Driving, running, walking, sitting,
On the toilet, unremitting.
When the baby’s screaming too,
Phone demands its equal due.
Caller knows that you are there,
In your tiny cell, unfair!
A little buzz, a little tune,
Small vibration, answer soon.
If you don’t do it, all is lost.
Fear and loathing is the cost.
Escape is easy, some would say,
Just throw the chirpy thing away.
Albert Reeve, Gibsons
