I wonder what it will be like to be 55. 

Each face will be known in time, relations and relationships formed

through viral videos, HD blossom punching through screens

to form a pink crust on smiling faces.

Steady lines etched on taut skin, (spiralling from 1999 to 2016

and onwards) until the inkings blur and stretch

foreshadowing wrinkles of youth.

Aristocratic histories, doling out death with a flick of the wrist

replaced with caustic app swiping and lifelong settlements.

Too busy being shadowed with electric lighting

to thumb laughter lines or pinch hair between teeth

and happy with flaccid VR, the modern person loses touch

with relations and relationships formed.

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