icon in the corner tray

The icon in the corner tray is smiling at me
as if his smiling were all that was needed to make
this feeling of missing something go away. I look
at him with eyes half-closed by sleep I've not gotten
and his grin makes me angry somehow. His denial of
this awful feeling of emptiness, his persistent smile
becomes a trigger of early morning grumblings in my
mind that match the pre-Cheerios rumbling
in my too ample stomach.

The more he smiles the more unsettled I become
(Interesting word, unsettled - I wonder, does one have to
settle before becoming eligible for feeling unsettled?)
Mildly obsessed, I continue to watch his smiling face for
subtle, tell-tale signs that he has kept his promise
of connection to others like myself, tied by some invisible
string of hope to machines waiting for a nod, a wink
from some distant other that will satisfy the empty
spot that the Cheerios can't seem to fill, satisying
only while fingers tap out, in Morris code, long-forgotten,
messages hidden within the key strokes, connection
lasting only the moment, leaving no afterglow.

19 October 2007