When I hunt for you online, in photos, I find, not even ghosts, only shadows. I’m not yet your friend so I don’t smile at the memory of that brilliant joke you told: you had to be there and I wasn’t. I’m not yet your lover transported by the remembrance of our holiday so I create my own montage rich in imagination but worthless in reality. We share no past, your history means nothing to me. My heart which was open becomes closed. My eyes which were kind become cruel. I lay in my house and you slump in yours. Our hands on our phones. Our fingers type, prod and demand separate fantasy. You could only be round the corner. You could be a million miles away. By and by, I don’t care.
When I find you, our eyes catch and there’s a tingle exciting the air. Sparking out of your perfect animation, it’s the possibility, I think, of who you are, who you’ve been and who you could be. You broaden your shoulders, I straighten my back, we catapult our hearts! You smile: my heart twirls. You laugh: my eyes glitter. I admire your movement, the whole perfect length of you. Lust rushes. Our hands are in each others, our fingers intertwine. We’re Breaking News! We are ‘as it happens’ there! We’re creating our story, we’re painting our memories, we’re friends, maybe lovers. By and by, I care a lot.
I won’t hunt online anymore.
I’ll trust that you’re out there and that when I’m supposed to find you, I will.