We sit in front of our computers waiting for something to happen.
A flower blooms outside. Someone runs down a beach. Two people meet at a bar and lightning strikes.
Inside private rooms, the screens draw us to their glow like insects to the flame. I've written that before. But I'd also like to add that a warm laptop in bed is a poor substitute for the body heat of a lover.
A shower under a waterfall. A shower shared. A shower of falling stars.
Our eyes begin to hurt from the sedative's intoxicating glow. Something in our foreheads making us dizzy. The body begins to reject the drug.
Collecting profiles from the past like baseball cards prevents one from stepping onto the three dimensional field of play. The photographed lives are hollow reflections of non-responsive personas.
A bottle in hand. Sunglasses over eyes. A party or a paradise. Glossed over lives.
