From the edge of this

crowded theater,

I’m hedging my promises

to be

in this moment.

I sit and squirm over

the brick burning in my pocket.


It’s a portal to a mall of infinite experience,

where I may window shop


where I can scavenge a morsel

of every salient moment

everyone I know

is pretending to have.


The movie begins

and I’m trapped here,

in this analog

of time and space,

where I can’t flip through channels

or refresh my feed,

and with the low lighting,

can’t even take a selfie

to show everyone else

what they’re missing.

Published in The Cross Review, Issue 2, May 2015.

Angel Eduardo