this is a first draft of a poem.  Ezi didn’t seem to like it, but maybe you can give me some advice:

 

Zooming in

 

So he’s sitting around after another successful talk,

And he’s rearranged his philosophy lecture notes

And he’s on his way to dump his dirty dishes in the sink

When there’s a knock at the door – and shit he says –

I have to put on pants.  The bell rings again and he opens

and a strange woman says, “Although we’ve never really met

I probably look familiar because we’re on zoom together –

I listen to your lectures, almost every one of them.

Can I come in? – I’ll wear my mask, and keep a distance

But I have to see it for myself or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. “

She steps boldly forward toward the hall – “This is where

your study is, right?”  she says, before he can say a word.

After all, he hasn’t met a living person in months

and he’s almost surprised she possess lower limbs. 

 

And she’s turned on the light in the room he’s just left,

Before he can even imagine where she’s gone,

and she looks around and shouts, “This is the place! 

Tell me, what is that object you keep near the wall

opposite your computer?  Part of it seems to be covered,

and  sometimes I see what looks like part of a bicycle,

maybe a motorbike, but something of it seems to be missing

and even though I try, I haven’t been able to figure it out.”

“It is the secret,” he replies, “the secret of zoom.

There must always be something to make you feel,

That on a screen, you can never know the entire truth.”