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I confess to not knowing how the internet really works. It offends my poetic sensibilities to think of it as anything but magic. But, that means I’m a pretty awful blogger. Like, do I need to tighten my account’s security with a two-step authentication process? I don’t know. Probably no one would want to hack my little poetry bloggie blog, but isn’t part of the deal that a program can do that? Phishing for things? And I’m sure that if I spent more time messing with this, I could figure out how to get that iceberg picture off the screen. I only wanted it there for a day. Alas, I don’t care to spend the time learning how to internet for real. So, you’re stuck with just words tonight.

I heard a story today about how the European Court of Justice passed the “right to be forgotten”, which guarantees the right to take your name out of a search index (Google’s, in this case), and the phrase stuck in my brain and made a poem.  But, it isn’t a poem about the case, though there are lots of interesting angles, right to privacy, freedom of expression, etc. Maybe another day. For now I’m going to poem fast and go to bed ridiculously early.

The Right to Be Forgotten

I reserve the right to be forgotten,

and the right to fall short of both dreams and ambition,

and while I’m at it I’ll claim the right to Good Enough For Now,

and leave the years to their fast approach.

Yes, go ahead and forget all the attempts and surrenders,

blunders, bruises, and suspicions,

and I’ll wait here by the creek,

blank as your mind in search of my name.

***********************

This is a short poem. I can never tell if the short ones are any good, but I tried to stick some more stuff in the beginning, middle, and end, and ended up back where I started. Ah well. It is a short poem Monday. ‘night, poemies 🙂

 

 

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