The Last Two Years

Another call. The faces take their places.
A choreographed dance, fit for the stage.
Cliched, exhausted, hackneyed social graces
and tedious routines refuse to age:
"oh, hahaha, I think you are on mute",
"I'm loving your new background, it's so cute!"
A few more fits and starts, the meeting lingers.
I push it to the side, my nimble fingers
are working on a Wordle while they chat.
I cannot mute it though, might miss a question
and get invited to another session.
(Yeah, fitting words to boxes is all that!)
The last two years, you ask? They have been trying.
But all in all, preferable to dying.

Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2803653-Poetry-Symposium-Competition-Sonnet-Categor A modified Onegin sonnet