Before Kindle. (F451)
In the plumpness, in the ticking of our stage
You were the evermore, the capturing of a moment, the capsule of my spirit and
Was so many blurred events that led to here,
The conclusion of an ending
The disillusionment of your pure form
I whispered your name in a coffee shop on the East side
Between the tickerdy tap of dials and aggravated look ups from little, back-lit screens,
I lusted after the lumps one gets on their inner finger from hard pencil grip,
I touched myself in toilets filled with an acceptable usage for you,
I wept for your lovers of lead and ink and crayons and paint.
I gargled quotes you gifted me between electric brushing and spitting fluoride.
I missed your scent when I'd run the tip of my nail along your insides.
How lucky I was to know you, to read with you, to write with you, and bathe, still, in all our shame.