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I love to have the nonsense in my ears:

podcasts, audiobooks, youtube essays.

Give me some content makers for my fears,

and let my mind be meddled in their haze.

For, long as I am tuned in to the stream,

I need not think at all of things myself.

My bluetooth earpiece spins for me a dream,

and hangs my consciousness upon a shelf.

And how so dearly blissful is that space--

that dullness and that absentness of mind,

to let someone else think in my own place

and simply assume that we are in kind.

There’s surely not a danger hid in this,

no life that I will, consciouslessly, miss?

~~~

If I should have been any better off,

I should not e’er have met someone like you—

who will, my silly jokes, both scorn and scoff,

and wants to do the things I want to do.

For if I had, a wealthier man been,

I’d want, and be surrounded by the kind

who want things beyond yours and my own ken,

who, in what things we love, no pleasures find.

So, though I want a little for more coin,

and though my station is a lowly one,

I would not like what fate would then purloin

from me—the things that you and me find fun.

And your face would be less like kin to me.

I do not wish for that reality.