In this Neverlandish place
that we initially thought was entertainment
at this very second, two people are falling in love
(Klodi and Vilma, let’s say it —
between them 27 years and 5 thousand kilometers they don’t know about).
Two people are enraged (these are two boys),
since words should not be written before being mulled over,
but then, sometimes they just come out.
Two people — Mark and Linda — are trying to remember
if they’ve met before
or whether it’s déjà vu
(in fact, they’ve read each other’s names in the papers,
in articles they’ve tried hard to forget).
Two people are arguing over core beliefs,
one of them is convinced that the Earth is flat.
Two people are feeling like heroes:
they just contributed to the most moving cause of the moment
with a like and a share.
Two people are selling something, all smiles:
it seems they’ve found the perfect bait.
Two people are boasting of adventures
they had on holidays they never took,
sending each other
pictures found online,
until they choose the same one by chance.
The lights go dim slowly
a quarter of the globe after another;
the faces light up
only by the glow of screens
in a bluish, reddish, greyish fever.
Only in Sofia the retiree’s profile
there are no reactions, just silence on every post.
In it, there are only cooking recipes
and obituaries,
in alternating order
of feeding and dying:
Chicken Tikka Masala,
esteemed Professor Jones has passed away,
oatmeal and date cake,
the world mourns the loss of the beloved soprano,
spring rolls with seasonal vegetables.
In front of the screen, Sofia
wearing her thick glasses
puts each day into the oven
a casserole
and a little bit of death.