Analog

Performed by Molly Cullen at Busboys & Poets Hyattsville
Thursday, September 4, 2025

Analog

How could I possibly capture the loss
What was taken
By the titans in minimalist high rises
With sterile white walls and white couches
And green juice

How could words possibly illustrate the monsters we’ve become
The price paid in mines in Congo
The blood shed
In the name of connection that’s never felt less connected

And for what
Computers under our fingertips
A front-facing camera
Newfound perception of the self
Novel methods of inflicting pain and violence and neglect upon each other, upon ourselves

Perhaps I could I show you
How beautiful notebook paper is covered in the curly handwriting of your best friend
The anticipation of checking the mailbox every day and finally finding your name scratched on a tiny white envelope

How could I possibly capture the loss
We used to daydream
Gaze off into the distance, into each other
We let our minds wander and wonder
Now
Even the disciplined among us live and die by our pings and checklists and data
What is data to an earthling
Am I rested, am I well, am I wise
Answers that can only lie within my being

I don’t need to see news break before my first day dream
I don’t need to be available to be in love
And neither do you
I beg of us to reclaim what’s ours
Our time
Our attention
Our freedom
Our ability to know ourselves and each other
For who we are
And not how we’ve been curated
We are more than holograms
We are real
We are divine
We are human
We are
We are

So if you need me
I’m in my own glass house struggling to sit in my own mind, calming my own nervous system

If you need me
Send a letter
I promise I can wait
Or better yet
Drop by unannounced
I’m not afraid of you
I know who you are

Divine, real, beautiful,
messy, misunderstood, analog human.