I can’t even wrap
my head around this.
You stare back at me,
teasing me to touch you,
push your buttons, massage
a message or sentence out of the pores
of this screen just so I can frown, highlight, delete.
Stop flashing your cursor at me.
Each pending line is vertically winking at me
like I’m supposed to be ready to pounce.
Instead, I’ll push the screen down
and listen to your undercarriage
hum. Hum. Hum. Moan.
“Please open me, speak to me!”
But by being speechless,
I have given you everything.