Why I Don’t Have A Facebook

Why I Don’t Have a Facebook

Bursting flocks reveal that cool
buys tempered casts of the eye,
but how the old hat
begs debonair.
He knows a tattered feather will soon tempt.
They’ll ask why.

Curious
where his mystery casts long shadows,
they say, by bread crumbs of a sort,
“The vendors don’t accept greenbacks
though you may trade for my knickknacks”

Lit cigarettes dwindle towards the morrow’s taboo.
Another?
Bells of a distant scene, echo,
and my eyes follow.

The intrigue of moss-topped relics
is a vice that will suffice.
He decides ground creature instead of nets
for her lips,
so long as the company’s not into it.