If you're reading this, it's by choice, because no poetry teacher worth the trouble would assign it for class. You're wondering whether poetry is worth your time and energy, and you have things to do. It is a good question to ask while you're reading this.
If you’re reading this at work, you are risking the embarrassment that will follow after spending all afternoon on the internet. But your timepass is our business, so please keep dawdling. Your boss needs to read this too.
If you’re reading this, and I hope you are, you may be waiting for me to get to the point.
If you’re reading this, I’m thrilled. I thought I’d lost you at that protest concert, when everything ended too soon, and no one knew the coldness to come.
If you’re reading this in a beautiful room with a view of the ocean, I am probably envious of your life. I am comfortable but bored in the suburbs.
If you’re reading this, I want to impress you this time around. I know the last thing I wrote wasn’t so hot? I know you’re probably just skimming it quickly, so I’ll keep it short.
If you’re reading this, are we friends again?
If you’re reading this in Delhi, Bombay, Chennai, or indeed, Taiwan, either I’m asleep right now, or you’re up very late at night, or we’re both awake, but in rather different moods. Consider the gap in time and space. How can we connect?
If you’re reading this looking for lyrical precision and poetic language that is hard and rhythmic and perfect like a diamond, sorry to disappoint you yet again. This poem is a dusty mirror under buzzing lights in a forsaken hallway on the internet.
If you’re reading this in a toilet stall, try coming back here tomorrow around the same time. You know what to do.
If you're reading this in a literary magazine, then clearly it must be pretty good.
If you’re still reading this, thank you for reading this.
[X-Posted at SM]