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I see my friends most every day,
not live, but in pixel color.
Smiling cheap and incomplete without their elbows showing.

 

And still the impulse to smile back
will charm the man behind the webcam where he sits scratchy headed in low slung boxers.
What thoughts he thinks rests in his twitching wrinkled finger pads wet with Doritos dust saliva (Cool Ranch flavor, I hope).

Both of us together searching, bleary eyes, mouth agape and salivating, neck straining, keeping thumbs free to twiddle-twaddle or scroll for more.

And scroll of course we do.

One’s with his ex five years ago one’s with her girlfriends two travelling, dabbling, and we’re keeping bad scores until eyes weep.

Then a priceless goatee, lopsided and wiry, for me and my hacker to giggle at with glee.                Finally, the reason we’ve come here.

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