Facebook Etiquette & Theory

I “like” everything 
 you post, 
 even if I don’t like it.

Feeling loved 
 shouldn’t be another onus 
 for you or 
your online persona.

Plus your words, pictures, jokes — 
 even if fake — 
 reveal a uniquely natural state.

Even your emoji 
 bitterly agree to disclose 
 something true.

(Exposure is often artful, too,
 the way that silence 
 keeps us honest.)

So, I like everything you make.
 Even if what you make 
 is just terrible

sense of the world,
 stories, decisions,
 grammatical mistakes.

I like it.

I like: your band, your blog,
 your animal,
 your kid,
 your podcast, 
 your brand,
 your car,
 your successes,
 your house.
 I like your political opinion — no, actually
 those are exempt.
 Oh, what the hell. 
 It’s just a click.

I like it all.

So when your spouse 
 lets slip through a side-eye 
 in a mildly funny text conversation 
 you’ve screencapped
 and I see they’re subtly gesturing 
 that they don’t love you or your antics 
 anymore,
 I like it.

Because among the eggplants 
 and the peaches 
 and the shits
 and the deaths 
 one day, I believe,
 I’ll see another picture, one of which, 
 of course, I’ll like immediately too.

This time, in the Maldives,
 under a solid blue sky
 beside the white ropeline 
 of a private beach 
 you’re jumping 
 into the morass 
 of the ocean.

Your head at a slight cant
 your arms splayed,
 you’re smiling 
 into the camera 
 as you fall back into a wave, 
 reborn.

I’ll close my computer, lie in bed
 and read, and
 just as I let go of the world
 for dreams
 a tiny jolt of curiosity
 will wake me.

And pleasantly
 I’ll wonder:
 Who in the hell 
 took that photo?