Recently I became a teacher forced to move his lessons to an online format. I'll only focus on one of the myriad existential crises this has caused.

I now spend a stupid amount of time on the interwebs where, once again, I forgot to shut off my brain. I made the mistake of paying attention, doing deep dives, and reading the comments. Never read the comments. However, this time reminded me of a poem I wrote when similarly disenchanted (and a bit disgusted) with how some conduct themselves from behind the anonymity of screens. It gave me...something new to think about.

This is a true story. Completely true.

Maybe I should send him a copy.

anatomy of an internet troll

you chose five photos to introduce yourself.

two are semi-automatic rifles. in another, a pregnant blonde
wraps an arm around your waist, holds the back of her left hand
to the camera. light winces from diamond to the “meninist”
embossed on your ripped t-shirt. the next cradles your son, newly minted
and in his mother’s arms (it’s four months later. your ring finger remains empty).
in the last, you’re bare-chested and finger gunning the camera, head cocked
to display the faux-mullet and horseshoe mustache that screams, “i actually enjoy
the taste of PBR.” this should have been enough. but i have to know more.

fourteen public photos cover your wall: guns on the kitchen table.
guns riding shotgun in your blue truck. you holding an antique pistol.
your infant son holding your middle finger. your not-yet-fiancé
uncomfortably holding a bolt action. an ill-attended baby shower.
you arching the sky above your blue truck with a flame-thrower—
a tiny American flag on the dashboard. an empty water park.
a dirt bike. two pre-pregnancy date photos. two pictures of the blue truck
you’ll own once you “scrape together the money to have it repaired.”
a cartoon of a priest with his pants down, his wrinkled pink gristle
on the forehead of a child. i click tabs, scroll, and try to understand.

your education stopped at the eleventh grade. you have no ‘Friends’
of color— at least none who will accept you on social media.
one of your white “bros” posted a meme about Black dicks
and white chicks. you smiley face emoji in reply,
but aren’t a racist because the only TV show you ‘Like’
is The Boondocks. no favorite books are listed. your self-assessments
are poignant and many (the use of apostrophes escapes you.
commas are liberally employed like bacon bits on a wilted hotel salad).
you can’t hold down a job because of “drama” in your past, “struggle”
that has not made you stronger. every day you sit in front of the computer
and play video games, “especially in the winter.” you ride your dirt bike,
every day, because you spent $200 on its parts. you enjoy the beach
and every “event that involves drinking,” but never drugs because
you’ve learned that lesson. you believe an “eye for an eye is fair,”
and will blast your music next to me because you wish for me to listen
(you need for me to listen). you feel you are a better person now. and unique.
and humble. and “more intelligent than most.” you describe yourself as
“a human being from the planet earth.” and i nod. and weep.

~ MEH

Original published in 3Elements Literary Review, Issue 21