Ode to those people you can't find on facebook....

For awhile now, I’ve been thinking that the best thing one can do for one’s social media life is not have one.
Every year or so I think about my old friend Mr.Smith. I met him my freshman year in college on the wrestling team. He was a lanky kid smoked a lot of hash and always wore a ski cap. He dated petite blond girls from Kansas but saved his love for his snow board. Anyhow, when I do think of him I immediately jump on facebook and see if I he has a “social media presence.”
He doesn’t. Unless he goes by some other name now. And I make up all kinds of crazy stories about him.
Maybe he’s a spy, or a former spy who now helps people in distress, or a drug runner dragging hash from Mexico through California and into Colorado. Maybe he dates a supermodel or an aspiring actress. Maybe he’s a bum who hitchhikes all over the country gets an odd job stays long enough until he has enough money to leave then hits the road again. Maybe he’s an enterprising entrepreneur.
Maybe he’s a chef.
Sometimes I think he’s a ski bum who lives the kind of life where he snowboards all day and smokes hash all night and beds beautiful petite blonde girls on vacation from Connecticut. Sometimes I think he moved to LA and surfs instead of snowboards.
These things probably are more interesting than the real story.
They are certainly more interesting than the shit I see on facebook every morning….
Waking up early
on Martin Luther King day
to your shitty post
about how the good doctor
would now be Republican

After several months —
a squirrel in the front yard
squinting hard at me

Mid Januarya true sixty-degree dayStill no girls in skirts
Some dead tree brancheswhispering in winter’s breeze— Such a fine sutra

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