A ping

A ping distracts me as I board a non-descript flight back home back from a perfunctory celebration where I play my part the role requiring a character far too mature far too unaffected by the turmoil in my mind even for my liking. yet I play it effortlessly. A sign of a grown-up man or just one too tired to express dexterously what he truly feels without overt discovery. The ping distracts me from my well heeled white sneaks from my overpriced t-shirt paying homage to a sportstar also in his waning years both of us bolding on to a past glory in our parallel universes mine not just parallel but embarrassingly delusional. The ping is of that social network that tells me you appreciated a visual. what are you thinking when you see it ? Me hoisting my son aboard my shoulders those broad, ample shoulders you ran your fingers across in a shivering night where passion lay bare And empty promises seemed anything but. A ping that reminded me of a liaison reduced to a perfunctory relationship drawn by societal and haphazardly penned down Lines On a non descript flight Back home.