distraction there is a fingerprint in the upper left corner of my screen as i sit here and try to write to you. i don't know how it got there; it isn't mine. it draws my attention away from your letter. it is as if someone longing for touch had pressed their hand to my screen and then, faced with the reality of pixels and distance, moved it sadly away, leaving on the smooth impersonal glass the unique, intimately whorled evidence of their desire. it sits on my screen with patient insistence. wasn't it there the last time i tried to write to you? i must confess, its yearning is contagious, although distracting and discomforting. i want to wipe it from my screen so that i can get on with your letter, yet in so doing, i acknowledge the desire to return its waiting touch, to caress it away, to stroke it lovingly with windex and tissue. my eyes keep straying to it, as i struggle to write, to find words to reach out to you, draw your attention as effectively as that fingerprint causes mine to drift.
Great poem. I think in five years, it's the first love poem that had I've read that included a net/comp reference in an image that will stick. I loved it.
