I am fascinated by durable technologies, especially individual, durable pieces of those technologies. Books are a durable technology. Paper is a durable technology. Language is a durable technology. Within language, a word that once became mocked and reviled, “like,” has also proven incredibly durable.
This poem for Sunday is, like, an homage to “like.”
Liketown by Chuck Rybak Because it's something in the water, she says I'm, like, so sick. Because he's scavenged the last of his barren-cupboard dreams He's, like, so hungry. Because she's Atlas lugging the tremendous weight of her own head She's, like, so tired. The teachers try to help, pacing the front of flouresent rooms like pumas, or like, lunatics, Imploring that you're not like bored, you are bored—you're not like so pissed, you are so pissed. You're not a simile for your own life— you are your own life. Unfortunately, Mr. English teacher is, like, so weird. Realize that your dog might be a like dog because when you throw his tennis ball he's like, I don't think so. Your pins and passwords don't work at the like-machines, and after three tries, like, contact your branch for assistance. The gas-station attendant spells a word on the marquee, right there, by the numbers, like, $3.50 unleaded. The like-troupe has blown into your town, no doubt at night, no doubt in fall, maybe they blew in, like, leaves. And the like-gypsies steal everything that's not, like, nailed down. The bosses say I'm, like, not myself today, Send you home to refrigerators armored in like-magnets, holding notes that read I have, like, eaten the plumbs that were, like, in the icebox. It's harder to diagnose the children, so ask them if they're okay. When they say, like, totally respond with like, really? But prepare for the mystery, the infinite availability of, like, whatever. Demand: I'm going to ask you a question and you can't use like in your answer. As if. Then you remember, beware the actor, because how can you really know these souls that are always, like, something else? Attention neighbors, these gypsies could be, like, aliens, like, body snatchers, they could be, like, you, and how would we, like, know? What if they get, like, jobs, followed by houses and lawns that they, like, like, a lot? Then your town is officially a Liketown, where girls cry by phones because boys said, I'll, like, call you. The teacher again rages in class, waving his arms at rows of distracted faces because he, like, really cares. When you shake hands with friends, you withdraw quickly into your warm pocket, It's, like, really nice to see you. Residents on dates stroll home from dinners, past bleeding accidents because Those people will be, like, taken care of. There's no need to look both ways now because reality is a step removed, because it's only like living. The crosswalk signal flashes, illuminates its like-person the town's new brand of hero always stepping, like, forward.