LAN

People all around them tell them
repeatedly that they respect nothing.
They say that all they can hope for
is a merciful pinch on the neck
that reminds them they never
had the upper hand. They punch
holes through old bits of hardware
they no longer use and attach them
to their key chains to reflect the kind
of people they claim to be, and aren’t lying.
They gather together in a basement made of
gray stone and old wood that has been painted
over to look new, and they stare into each others
screens while drinking Turner’s iced tea sometimes
spiked with liquor and sometimes not.
They talk about only what they find funny and
worthwhile and have towers of soda cans stacked
on their tables that get taller and taller in attempts
to out do each other. Dimensions accessed only through
coding and well built machines were their stomping
grounds, and it didn’t matter one bit that it wasn’t real.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s