Typist Love

It’s far too late to be staring at my blue-lit phone from 4 inches away

But nonetheless, here I am typing ramblings into this illusory keyboard

Even my fingers are lonely for the touch of something real

 

Let me type a story into your back

An emotional-rollercoasteristic novel up and down your spine

A classical epic across your shoulder blades

 

Touch me with the care that your keyboard receives 

Use the dimples on my face to find home row

A Smooth Digit Finds Joy Killing Laments; simultaneously placing lips on G and H.

Keaton Goodman