The Funeral

I spend my days sitting staring at a box
Called an iMac.
Except in the evenings when I
Sit staring at another box
Called a TV.
Alone, like solitary millions
Each communing with his box.
This is the Modern Way.

But this Thursday we'll all gather
To sit collectively staring at a different box
In which you lie.

You'll have brought us together
For ceremonial box-staring.