"You're muted," she says
and I look at the Zoom screen
and, sure enough, I am muted
and as the stormy frown takes over my face
I demand to know, "Who muted me?!!"
I mean, there I was, speaking,
sharing my pearls of wisdom,
my hilarious quips, my warm pleasantries,
when out of the blue,
through no fault of my own,
I've been muted. How dare you?!!
I mean, the audacity, the impropriety, the outrage.
So, I look for the culprit.
Who dunnit?
What bloody fool, what inept goofus...
My accusatory nature rears up
like a snake, coiled and ready to strike.
It's amazing how quickly my blood can boil.
"Blamer." That's what Jim and I call each other
when it's clearly the other person's fault.
Who spilled the milk?
Who didn't put away the milk?
Who put away the milk in the wrong place?
Who let the milk spoil?
Hey, there's an endless list of accusations living
in my storehouse.
Okay, so I got muted. So no one could hear me for a moment.
Is it really an unforgiveable sin? A federal crime? A...
Never mind. I'm gonna mute myself now.

Cathy Dana is the President of Alameda Island Poets