May 15, 2020The Meta-Metamorphosis
As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning
from uneasy dreams, he found himself
cancelled by a Twitter mob.
“What happened?” he thought,
before the movers came
and took away his bed.
After that, they took his desk,
the clothes in his closet,
all the books
on his shelf.
Of course, he was used to people
making up stories about him.
The last time it happened,
he’d lost his job,
his parents,
even his beloved sister Grete.
Maybe they’re right? he thought.
Maybe I am a monster.
Gregor’s room was spotless now,
even his filth wiped clean,
just a single nail in the wall
where that old picture
of the pinup girl used to hang.
He handed the landlord his keys,
then stepped outside.
A tow truck was lifting
his car onto a flatbed.
A small crowd of protesters
had amassed on the curb
demanding he apologize.
“I’m sorry,” he said,
though he didn’t know what for,
which only made them angrier.
Tired from his restless sleep,
he decided to walk to a nearby Starbucks
and buy a coffee,
only to find his debit card declined.
“Sorrynotsorry,” said the young barista,
who immediately
hashtagged this with a photo
of him on Twitter.
Gregor sighed
as the two police officers
escorted him out.
He glanced at the sky one last time
before they shoved him
in the back of a van.
The day was overcast.
The sun cancelled by clouds.
from #67 - Spring 2020