Your profile photo was a severed head
inside a washing machine
I should have taken note
but my head was busy churning inside my own dream.
A wineful of heartache,
fingers tapping out bravado and nerve
like racers at La Mann,
keyboards chasing one other in reckless swerves.
Every little word and every little phrase
Became a mine to jump over or a hand grenade
Night after night,
a honeyed thorn in our sides
I made you laugh,
you made me dance right out of my mind.
You were smart as a lawyer and sarcastic as hell
I liked you said haha instead of LOL
I admit I was more scrappy than I needed to be
But I couldn’t stand down,
Not I nor the soldiers in my ghost army.
We opened all the lies like little boxes of sweetsYour head in the spin cycle, dick sharp as a migrainemy virtual boyfriend
Your hand in your boxers, my belly on heat.
How we loved to play this made up game.
Stranger than fact, we kept in contactTo become friends of a kind
through the years
Slaying the algorithms like little St. Micheals we swore
That keep love in mind
and its strange,
How we’re really not so far
From all the non-virtual lovers who came before.
writer and eternal optimist