It is folded, like so many before it,
Into an energetic, rushed triangle
My name is boldly labeled on one side
And the other side features the subject heading:
I decide to disregard the command
I’ll savor this during history
Nothing important even happens in history
Delicately unfurling the paper, I begin to notice
Lots of capital letters
And repeated usage of the exclamation point.
This is time sensitive material
Top Secret, Confidential
There are only three people who know this:
Jenny, the girl who experienced the whole ordeal;
Ben, the perpetrator; the ugly so-and-so who
Ruined so much more than last Friday’s dance,
And Sadie, the triumphant reporter.
For my eyes only.
Only my eyes have been trusted with this.
Well, my eyes and my locker partner –
How can I keep this to myself?
Susan darts to the absent kid’s desk
Next to me
As Mr. History Sub drones on about some woman,
And I have a social currency, a networking commodity,
My own note, recently written and
Folded into an origami star
“Susan” is written in my best cursive since the third grade
And each point of the star features an exclamation point
My note, somehow longer than Jenny and Ben’s relationship,
Regales an epic, award-winning plotline and
As I pass it to her eager fingertips,
Susan looks at me like a sister,
Like we’re sisters.
is it more cool to like what everyone else likes
or should I try to find something unexplored?
am I uncool, by definition, if I want to be cool?
it feels like one of the great paradoxes of adolescence…
does cool happen to you
like so many other pieces of high school?
is cool like armpit hair?
one night you go to bed,
just hoping to be like all the others
and then in the morning mirror,
there you are: cool…
is it, perhaps, like so many other things,
some fleeting thing you pass by
because you’re looking too hard to find it?
or maybe cool is more like calculus:
you try and you try and you try
and you fail the midterm
and then suddenly
the numbers quit stomping around the page
and the mystery dissolves
could it be that cool is like
those old Bible stories
where God shows up like some disheveled beggar
and just when you couldn’t think anything less of something
it reappears as the most brilliant form in the world
promising you eternal prosperity
as for now, we’ll all just agree
that cool is quietly yet fiercely protected
past the broken mine shafts
in the darkest, bottomless cave
We are our status updates
The world spins or whatever
And it records our thoughts
Flowing through the imprecisety
Ending in uncertain question marks
Question marks curled around the top
But finished with an affirmative dot
Like some inexperienced exclamation point
As if to pronounce indecision with definitive conviction
As we take solace in hiding in the anonymity of worldwide publicity
We constantly define and redefine and undefined
A blinking cursor
The click of a mouse
Those are the heartbeat of the twenty first century
The hugs and high-fives of the future-present
And it’s awesome, right?
We live in a u-no-it world, and we rlly do no it!
The world spins or whatever
Like a whirring hard drive
Keeping fragmented copies of our fragmented thoughts
One small step for a man
One giant leap for mankind
The ultimate status update
But somewhere we tripped
And someday someone will find the record of
That time you posted
lolz im bored