He sat cross legged
Incongruous supplicant
On cold concrete
Beside the tracks
He bowed before
The omnipresent phone
Iphone 5, even God now
Has to upgrade Himself
To keep on track
Waif like, pale
Against grey concrete
Ears more punctured
Than pierced
Confused initiation
To tribal fear
As cold as the concrete
He sat on
Fear he might not
The phone god
Assured him
He was real
For he had the stream
On his screen
Ignoring those around him
Who could provide
More human reassurance
He chose instead
To bow before his screen
I left him
Sitting on cold concrete
Pale waif
Cross legged, a

Modern day supplicant

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By badgerslabyrinth