Warning Label

On this day

when your culture

long ago decided

you will be officially a woman,

you will be feted

and transition

to leaving a childhood behind.

I am the gift

that all of your friends have

and that you have begged for

even while still clutching

the stuffed tiger

who protected you

from things in the dark.

Before you open

my sleek, minimalist wrapping

take heed.

Once I have been activated

through cellular beacon

or wireless incantation

and slipped into your pocket,

you may become a castaway

in a sea of ones and zeroes

filters and ads

until you cannot see the world around you.

Once it is known

that I belong to you,

your time will not be yours

because you will be chained

to rapid answers

from those who cannot wait

for you to live an undistracted life.

I am filled with perfection-

perfect beauties

perfect hacks

perfect insults

perfect pranks

perfect answers

perfect lies.

If you can see the stars

in my cloud of navigation

you may be able to

celestially navigate

to the myriad truths

that I conceal.

But if you step off your island,

you may need to face the mythical creatures

aiming to end your quest.

The sirens will tell you

that you can never be as beautiful

as they are

or even as beautiful as you felt

before you switched me on

but you can come close

if you buy

their branded beauty products

and pay a monthly subscription to view

the secret ways to apply them.

The trolls will tell you how stupid

your ideas are.

You will be too greedy if you walk one way

too lazy and entitled if you veer another direction.

These people fight,

endlessly and vigorously

for the freedom

to tell you

why you are so much less

than them

or anyone like them.

And if they get what they ask for

then they will enable

the downfall of more undeservings

that they can further destroy

in their flames.

The lotus eaters

offer mindless fun

with free downloads

and tiny prizes for showing up

and sacrificing your time

and motivation.

If you don’t need much

they will reward you

with ads that describe adventures

they never plan to let you take.

If you want more

from these diversions

just click and pay

to skip the effort needed

to save the princess

storm the castle

or beat a namless adversary.

If you ask for help

on this journey

take heed of confidantes and soothsayers

who look down, two thumbs poised

and listen only

during pauses

between fifteen-second, curated amusements.

They can no longer see you

and they are also

lost at sea.

But there is truth

and reward

hidden deep in a sea of profit

and misdirection

somewhere inside of me.

What I am uncertain about

Is if the prize

is better than the gift

of walking away,

box unopened

before you lose your still-certain

understanding

of who you still are

and how much you are worth.