Electronic Performers

Afternoon. My, that's a fine hat. What? That's your hair? Oops. Sorry. Erm, let's change the subject. I know - friendship.


Every now and then I'm playing about on Facebook, trying to avoid work,  and I notice that I'm not 'friends' with someone. And by that I mean, someone who I thought I was friends with, not just one of the millions of people who are lucky enough never to have met me in the first place.


And it's a weird moment. Not least because I generally have to try to remember: have they deleted me? Or did I delete them? Should I be very angry with them, or terrified in case they are very angry with me?


It's all become very complicated, this friendship thing. And I've been thinking about it a lot, for one reason or another - you may have noticed the theme recurring if you've been following this blog. And today being National Poetry Day, I thought I'd try to express my ideas here, poetically. I hope you enjoy it and doesn't lead you to instantly cast me into the wilderness.






We were friends, you and me, for nine good years
A quantifiable measurement of Summers and Winters, verified by Facebook
Celebrated with notifications and a photo montage on an arbitrary date
Harder to see, in real life


More and more difficult, as the years slipped by
To remember the last time I saw your real face
Memories bleached out by a thousand digital lips and eyes and teeth


Posing for your self-held camera
Trying to look ironic, but definitely really meaning it


Or side by side with this year's lover
Romantic memories, swiftly deleted as one by one they fell out of favour


Or laughing too loud, even through the silence of the frame
At parties I stopped attending years ago


Like all friendships, ours was subject to decay
But social media, like a virus in the zombie films we loved,
Kept it moving
Animated it beyond the point of death
Made it harder to let die


Until one day you removed the head and you destroyed the brain
And without warning, our friendship was gone
A mercy killing of sorts.
What passes, these days, for goodbye.
Your final words spoken, not by you, but by your electronic ghost


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