March 25, 2012
I want to breathe the air you’re done with.
A mist of water vapor, virus, carbon dioxide.
Your hip pressed against mine as we sit on a bench, looking out across the warm field.
Maybe find your earlobe with my nose.
Poke you in the ribs!
Brush a tiny spider from your eyebrow.
Meet your latest crush.
If I knew what hurt, perhaps I’d pet it.
Perhaps I’d lecture it.
Maybe I’d cut it in half with my mighty Leatherman!
I want to wait on you while you shop for stuff I dislike.
Bring you something neat from far off.
Watch a tear come out when you laugh hard at my jokes.
A million pieces of technology don’t bring you any closer.
They bring some ghost that might not even be you,
To tantalize while I fantasize.
I don’t even know how big you are.
What you smell like.
What your sounds are. Is that smile real?
All gone. Digitized away, phosphor scrubbed into flat nothing.
Tiered symbols… hands touch keys, keys make contacts, contacts make inputs, inputs make symbols, then symbolic volts wiggle on a wire, into more inputs, out into the universe, seconds later to reverse almost all of that into some combination of RedGreenBlue and some precise LCD shuttering at my eyes where I fool myself into thinking it’s my friend in my presence. Lies, all lies, almost, not quite.
It doesn’t smell like you, taste like you, sound like you…. My mind makes all that up for me, and all that really makes it you is the When of when I get it… old secret codes of life that may hint we once looked at each other only through the lenses in our eyes with nothing, nothing, nothing in between, through a cloud of water vapor, virus parts, CO2 and warmth. Maybe thighs touching on a bench, safely and modesty touching. Friend.
The digital world. Hmph….
What I want is digits intertwined.
Not cyberspace. Meat space.
Breath space. Face space.
Knees touching. Someone sneezes.
Sunshine. Quiet time when talking is all about just
Being in the same place, saying nothing.
A sunny bench somewhere real.