Numbered Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Numbered

In his hand; hers also
Life is key, card, remote…
To enter the flat in high-rise…

Let's call it: "Condo life".

Key has use only if at the door.

To get there must have codes!
Digitized are the codes
Condensed codes on sensors
Sensors send and receive using waves…

And the card has password…

Surrounded among walls
No one knows the next door.
Neighbours come, neighbors go
Condo life is like life of the eyes of same face
Never meet unless in the mirror, virtual
They enjoy, and they sigh, even die;
With sights gone no one knows.

No cattle with big eyes
No goat, lamb, neither horse
On trees no fruit blossoms
No lawn to be done
Just bricks and cements.

Transport is no more having walk
No riding on a beast, camel, horse
Comes taxi or Uber to drive everywhere
Food arrives as ordered; and cleans janitor
Calls on apps and waiting at the door
Connections are mainly via a concierge
The doors are cautiously half opened
Condo life is full of mistrust and fear
Isn't this prison difference in number?
Condo life is coded; prison's is on coat.

I love to go back to wilderness.