all my friends and i talk about is getting rid of our phones

our phones as the tiny gods we are trying not to worship

all my friends and I talk about is
getting rid of our phones—
a dystopian dream
dominating dinner conversation,
our phones on the middle 
of the table
  like candles
  like altars
        like tiny gods
we are trying not to worship

we talk about quitting
like smokers do—
        “next week”
        “after this trip”
        “when I found the love of my life on a dating app”

we make promises to each other
the way people talk
about leaving a bad relationship
while still keeping their toothbrush
ready by the sink

we dream of flip phones—
clamshells of another life
decorated with glitter and stones and
dangly 	  little charms
the pixels soft enough to
forgive our youthful acne
and ringtones we bought
by texting MTV

the only calls we received
were from our mother,
telling us to 
  come home,
  dinner was on the table
there was no algorithm
to drill us into compliance
no one to tell us:
  you are behind
    you are cutting your onions wrong
      you need to buy this thing (and this one and this one)
        you are a rat girl joan didion girl soft girl clean girl iphone face never enough girl

we say: let’s go camping
  just us
  and a map
  and maybe a knife
just in case
(but what if we lose our way
what if someone dies
what if I see something
beautiful?)

we delete tiktok but
never at the same time
so someone is always
missing out on 
the joke

we say
we cannot meet the modern world
without a screen
plastered to our hands—
this second self we cradle like a
  self-inflicted wound

and maybe we’re right
maybe we’re too far gone
maybe this thing
knows how to be us
better than we do

somewhere,
there is a version of me
who dared to take the leap
she knows the constellations
  by name
her eyes are soft
from looking
  outwards

i wonder what she wears
i wonder what her hobbies are,
and how she finds her way
i wonder
if she’s ever bored
  or late
    or lonely
      without the glow
to hold her

and i hate it—
     i hate it
this tether
this glass ghost
this thing too big to
understand

i’m tired and
my window to the world
has no curtains

    i want to close my eyes
    i want to become very
        very
           very
              small