Type Type Send

We speak a language of thumbs
communicated into translators of T9
like U.N. ambassadors
transliterating the codes of our home countries
into global policy
each carrying more weight than
the digital characters they encapsulate
type, type, send
type, type, send
a new message in the Inbox
read at 55 miles per hour
or between classes
or minutes before deadline

the poets of this language
are the ones who choose to punctuate
the oft-overlooked colloquialisms
of “R U bizy 2nite”
into the proper grammatical structure
proper spelling still matters somewhere
AIM has the niche of brevity
with its lowbrow dialect
of “lol”, “rotfl” and “omfg” —
keep you emoticons from infecting our thumbs

the debate is as old as English
when Norman French filled manors with beef and veal
while fallen cynings tended the cattle and sheep outside
the high class thumb the seven keys for “through”
while the uninspired ignorant masses settle for “thru”

if the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. —
or MLK —
spoke today
the phrase, broadcasted into the phones of the crowd
would be that we are judged
by the content of our communications
type, type, send
type, type, send

our thumbs define us
much to the jealousy of our other eight digits
the exasperated index
the vainglorious bird
the self-important ring
and the naïve, wayward pinkie
that secretly plots and schemes
in hopes that an errant firecracker
or angry car door
will leave it as the sole articulator
the last tool to accuse in courtrooms
or scratch behind one’s ears

but none of the non-opposables
even united like a superhero foursome
can counter the voice of the thumb
they merely hold our phones like beds
while the outcast digit
the extremity intentionally uninvited to parties
articulates in an erotic tryst with keys
like lovers beneath dark sheets
sending our hopes and dreams to phones elsewhere
they, jealous and embittered
lean tightly against the battery
like guests next door in a seedy hotel
wondering what passions
can be seen on the other side
celibates envious that others can love so freely
forever uncertain how T9
rises from foreplay to climax to afterglow
between spent thumbs and their beloved keys