Ah those little footprints we leave in the digital sand that
lingers between our virtual toes as we wander,
Sometimes with tenacity, purpose, a cause, along the aether beach,
A soft pixellated breeze blowing the tracks carelessly away behind us.
Or so we think, yet it is less sand, more plaster which casts a sliver hither.
Veiled impressions left for the finding if you are in the know.
Planted trip wires triggering alerts to show where, when, and
who holds and shares your interest, for how long….and from
whence they originated.
The devoted and the drifters.
Some of the canny out here wear smooth soled slippers,
Sneaking silently like technical wraiths,
Yet even they can be identified by their gait.
Repeated careful steps out of apparent abstract anonymous
Such is the future now.
They’ll know what colour underwear we have on soon.