Your phone

I have been all over town lately. I have been on long walks down by the creek watching the leaves flying down in the cold air and turning to pure gold as they go. I've been to see the wild, controlled smears of Delecroix paintings at the Museum, juxtaposed to an uncharacteristic, but similar Van Gogh still life, and then an array of early 20th Century Japanese prints that delighted me to no end. I've been out at my local cafe watching crusty troubadours singing unsteadily until it turned into something beautiful. And on my birthday I went out to our most committed slow food restaurant, Heartland, and had as good a restaurant meal as I've had in a long time. I saw professional baseball players in full Halloween costumes play a scrimmage in light rain at a new, small, downtown stadium. I saw surprisingly wonderful things on the St. Paul Art Crawl, including a giant camera obscura casting a giant upside down image of the city in real time onto a tall kitchen wall.


But no matter where I went, and no matter what I saw, your phone looked better.


There you were, pouring over your phone, looking into that little two by four inch window into eternity. It glowed out in the dark places, illuminating your face with a soft and magical light. Whatever you saw was ever changing. How absorbed you were! You stroked it with your thumb, tenderly, all love. You softly prodded it with your finger and who knows what wonderful things that caused your phone to do. How amazing it must be to interact with such a thing. What a miracle to look into that! The world I saw was nothing around you, a blank. There was no song playing, no painting, no food or spectacle. Ah, how could they compare? It was just you and your phone. Let the world swirl around you in a time lapse, like with Dr. Seuss's North-going Zax. Let it swirl around you like a South-going Zax as well. What could possibly compete?


I don't know what's on that phone of yours. Me with my paltry masterpieces, my live music, my opulent meal, I am clearly missing out. How I pine to look over your shoulder. I would give it all over in a second for a bare glimpse. How I dream of those possessing wonders of yours. How I long to know!


But alas, it is your phone. It is not mine and not for me. I am marooned in this world. All I can do is look upon your endless absorption, and dream...