I took my stupid niece out for a ride to see the countryside,
As she's from somewhere far from here. She stared the whole
Time at her phone, and my respect for her fell even lower than
It was before. How can one be incurious, devoid of any urge
To understand where she has come to live? How can one
Think that what's portrayed in pixels on a tiny screen is more
Important than what is? Somehow she can, as others do,
A nation of brain-damaged zombies, staggering toward
Polling booths to cast their votes for autocrats, assured by
What the pixels tell them: surely, everything is fine. One
Needn't bother glancing up to view reality.