I noticed your slight interest, lips sealed
at the corners, cheekbones defined with deep
set lines, a kind of worn and serious smile.
To think you would offer text messages,
date requests in pulse and thumb print.

I imagine I would decline, offer you
a glance, my blushed face, a smile parting
the pulsing crowd of blinking screens,
meta-bits and clicks, falling in love, distracted
or not exactly love, in haze, and in digits.

Why wait for each other when words are instant
and time is measured in distant exchange.
I would rather watch the lines twitch above
or below your brow, hear your voice instead
of wait for my blank screen to blink.

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