The bus on the way to school in Manchester was a place lurking with danger. The teenagers would jostle and fight, shout, throw coins, and do homework. I miss it.
Now, I watch the young passengers staring at their iPhones, scrolling impulsively on TikTok as if hypnotised. Where did we go wrong?
I try to approach social media like a Spartan. I deleted TikTok a few years ago, I’ve never had Instagram, and my Facebook is blocked by an app called Freedom for almost the entire day.
So it was with a mild air of superiority that I stepped onto the bus a few weeks ago in Jerusalem and watched the youngsters staring vacantly at the trending reels. Poor souls. Out of curiosity, I looked over a shoulder at an iPhone screen. I don’t remember what I was watching, or exactly what happened, but TikTok appears to have cast a spell over me and I missed my stop.
At a recent writers workshop, I thought this would make a good subject on which to share a few verses.
Lab Report
Ever heard the one about the rat
In the lab, that got a taste for the bottle
Of ketamine,
And kept coming back.
And, in time,
Forgot about the pellets,
And the spinning wheel,
And the meaning of it all.
Well, they found him pie-eyed,
Staring down the stars,
That gridded the
Night’s white sky.
And in the obituary,
He was thanked for
Taking a hit for the team, and for
Setting the bar high.
And it was noted
That his coiffed
Whiskers
Made him look like Elvis,
At the time of his demise.
Now on the
Number fourteen
At the seat in front of mine,
An iPhone cable hangs
Down like a drip,
Feeding a little life
Into bloodshot eyes.
The twitching thumb
Scrolling through time.
And over the shoulder
I see the reel:
A hamster
Chugging
A fistfull of mentos
And a can of coke.
Keeping it real.
And you already know
How this one goes:
An age of buildup. Volcano. Void.
And in slow motion
We watch it,
Again. And again.
And again.
So that I overshoot my stop,
And, on my own,
Turn the corner,
Home,
Whispering the line from
That ballad, “I can’t help falling”.
“I can’t help falling”.