visual collaboration opportunity – that spectral phrase
flung like a cold sausage onto fine china.

and then, the overture of sincerity:
"just wanted to say"
(as if this selfless broadcast might not echo

from a clipboard of warmed-over LinkedIn outreach).

they profess to have enjoyed – oh, deeply, this “poem” –
yes, the poem, from the truckload of hundreds.
no title, no line, not even a whiff of stanza
to anchor their admiration. thought-provoking,
they say. and it was – just not, perhaps, provoked them.

the hunger to connect smears over every line.
a kind of spiritual networking, deep-sea diving
in the shallows of engagement metrics.

your “writing process,” they query,
as though you kneaded those verses
in a Thermomix or downloaded them
via patchy Wi-Fi from the Muse herself.

they crave a peek behind the curtain—
never mind that they missed the entire show,
arriving at intermission, chewing on praise
like it were a pre-packed fruit salad.

and still, you’re expected to beam
at the gift of their attention l
ike a rescued marsupial brought back f
rom the brink by someone
who’s clearly never left the gift shop.

.