Gimme a Like, a Dream Sonnet

I suspect my roommate doesn’t like me.
His bed’s empty when I lay down my head.
If I follow him, will I find out he
smokes weed with more convivial fellows?
 
To be liked, not liked, or meh, is such a
small thing and such a big thing – upon it
events may pivot, a malleable
catalyst employed by gods when useful.
 
Still, we lust for “Like” like jonesing addicts.
Those who “like” or “dislike” hold us in their
minds, form holograms of our blood splatter,
affirm fingerprints of our existence.
 
Not. Like is an empty sense impression.
That’s why no one ever gets enough Likes.

Mike Wilson’s work has appeared in many magazines and in Mike’s book, Arranging Deck Chairs on the Titanic. His awards include the League of Minnesota Poets Award, the Maine Poets Society Award, and the Chaffin/Kash Prize of the Kentucky State Poetry Society. He resides in Lexington, Kentucky, USA.

Image by Stormseeker