Before Kindle. (F451)

In the plumpness, in the ticking of our stage  
You,  
You stained,  
You were the evermore, the capturing of a moment, the capsule of my spirit and  
It  
Was so many blurred events that led to here,  
There,  
The conclusion of an ending  
The disillusionment of your pure form  
Sullied.  
 
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.