Once upon a time
Strangers on the street
Would tip their hats
To ladies and say

Good day or just ma'am
Or simply form crescents with their
Lips to show their respect.
And not long ago

A lunch or dinner
Meant conversation,
A meeting of the eyes,
A genuine interest in another's day.

But technology brought
Too many people
To the table,
And who would want to greet a stranger

When a friend was just a "send" away,
The text soaring at the speed of light
To find its eventual home
In someone's pocket or purse,

Or when the next advance comes out,
Right in that person's head,
Beamed there like magic.
And yet here I am, absorbed like the rest,

Writing this poem on my iPad
While my son gets a haircut
From a woman
I failed to acknowledge properly.

(c) 2012 by Vincent Lowry