words rambling like briars over
fertile ground, reaching
for some common goal, some
shared opinion. We
disagree, sometimes, but gently.
We agree, mostly, in a rush of same syllable synchrony,
tripping over one another, tanglefooted.
Bedtime comes too soon.
So do phone bills.
You are not
I messaged you last night by email.
We often speak in pixels; telephone rarely.
Electronic best friend,
Somewhere you are a person
On the other end of our paper cup ---- and ---- string
Speaking into the electric air.
I receive your words at the notification sound.
No outer shell
We commune, plugged in
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