Typing away, Lefty’s got a-s-d-f
While Right hovers over j-k-l-;
Taking dictation for muses, but
Not always my beloved wonks –
Twirling hair in daydreams,
Outstretched, cradling the moon
In a triangle on our closest day.
Making shadow figures, assisting
In too many Jolly Rancher chews,
Swinging at the air in anger, snapping
Fingers to tunes, holding up the chin
While the eyes gaze upon a blinking
Cursor, unwilling now to write this confession.
Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.