The Fine Print
Convenience is not worth the cost.
Short-sighted by a world that promises everything — bright screens with endless possibilities. Redacted fine print validated by a check box that we never intended to read but we agreed to nonetheless.
Incompetency began here and somehow, I’m riding along. It's too little, too late cause we never checked the brakes and we passed the blame; it was someone else’s “to-do”. Immediacy demanded we leave, irony be damned — we left half put together, half falling apart.
Fuck one click, two-day shipping — I want to take the long route and see the shithole in the sticks because they have a better story, and they serve better food. I want to talk to the waitress because sadly even speaking in kind is lost. I want to connect without a screen.
Instant validation made us impatient and we forgot that we were not the only ones — lost, struggling, and alone. Technology promised to bring us together but I have never felt so far apart. We missed the fine print, where we sold our souls and changed to runaway tracks.
I feel like the world is burning around me but no one knows they’re on fire. As though, someone is reading me some horrid make-believe story. Did Riding really not see the wolf, dressed in an old woman’s clothes? Did she not smell the wild, tense energy — how could she not know that she was in danger?
© 2021 Niki Madore
