At the concert, I wince
as the grandmother pierces 
the dim light with her flash. 

As the overeager 
couple post on Facebook
sharing this moment with

all their friends who are in
bed already. I am 
with my daughter

who is eighteen years old.
She bought me these tickets
for Christmas not knowing

the band, beyond the fact
the singer was the son of 
a great bard and poet.

Even more delightful 
than the music is
to sit next to her again. 

I try not to judge the 
glare of the phone in front
of me…can’t she dim, dammit?

“The audience theme tonight
is not knowing how to
use their phones, am I right?”
 
I say to my daughter. 
She gently nods and then
minutes later even

more gently presses the 
record button that I
neglected to press

having spent at least a
minute quite busily
trying to catch the moment.