Bombardment

A found poem from the February 10 New York Times article, “Don’t Tell Me, I Don’t Want to Know.“

We seek it out
despite ourselves

this (strangely
alluring) minutiae:

macabre symptoms
of gastrointestinal viruses

how much candy
someone has eaten

his wife’s ability
to Zumba.

Eight million ghosts
(a web of too many faces)

lodge themselves like pieces
of corn in our subconscious:

What is my obsession
with this person from sixth grade?

Why haven’t I walked
the Great Wall of China?

I should be taking
my son to Spain.