Hi-Tech Romance
The intro on the disc menu repeats its edited reel;
sometimes, it skips in the slot, pixellating the flat screen,
the stars’ faces ripping into confetti squares.
She asks you to turn down the volume;
you reach a hand across her stomach to click the remote.
The television blanks in a shock of popping sound.
She rolls over to face you in the silence,
the darkness of the room folding around her.
You feel more naked without the speakers blaring over your head
than you do with your bare skin on hers beneath the sheets.
She has already fallen asleep, her arms heavy over your waist,
and you wonder how well you would sleep beneath pine trees and the man in the moon.
You close your eyes, bend your face forward,
and your noses touch – she shifts, pulls you in tighter.
That touch – and bright colors explode over your closed eyes,
more beautiful than high-definition cable, more radiant than megawatts.
Her cell phone rings, the vibrations rattling the coffee table.
You open your eyes and she rubs her fingers down your back; you shiver.
She kisses you, hard, as the phone rings itself into silence.
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