The place we used to meet in is no more:
A window to our minds in privacy,
In Monotype you read my vainest thoughts -
Lest in the light I flattered to deceive.
A cheerful ping and animated face,
A Pixar-deep and Groening-yellow smile,
Or cherry lips before a staged embrace.
A parting tulip just to reconcile
Impending space, a loss of connection -
Until our next crossing of paths by chance;
By fate or fluke or intervention
Towards our perfect, traceless romance.
Now although we still confab as flaking friends
The widening of our audience never ends.
