It’s probably true that some of their knowledge is absorbed through this simple intimacy
The mind of the writer, thoughts, words, the hand, connected to the pen or key,
the ink to the press, the paper, the publisher,
the runway, the carton, the slip,
The coffee, the spoon in the saucer, retail,
connected to the paper, the cover, the hand, my sleeping skin
For someone who came alive on the internet, computers sure feel hard and cold
keys sure feel tappy
My long natural nails sure do establish a complication
Loud sound
separate from soft scratches
Coated on the paper, coded on the page
We learned to speak sex with a delay
Identity with a chorus
Arms and legs could not resist
Sitting, tapping self, walking, seeing self, sleeping self
How a version
I wonder about a chat room that could smell like a shower
the aftermath of steam and shampoo
~*It’s hard to tell because the nails are small, but the polish is reflective*~
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