Everything is digital now
Clean and sanitized hands off and visually smooth
Easier now, no need for executive paper
Nor to lug around a slide carousel
That is why my heart drops now below my diaphragm
When I recall your fullness in my mouth
Nothing digital remains of these moments
No dirty footprints left on the mat
I’m hastily stapling the memories to the bulletin board
In the selfish corner of my mind
How many more of these thoughts will pull at my toes
While I watch a movie lying unsuspecting on the rug
Burn on my lips tasting hot oatmeal fresh from the microwave
Or trick my brain into feeling your postcoital perspiration
As I finger the condensation on the seltzer can
What else is haunting quietly
Only to surface and perpetuate relinquished longing
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