, ,

The fat green button
by my mother’s name
with the submarine graphic
on Skype. (call me)

Hitting like
on a bushy-browed pic
of that double-tailed chick
from school. (remove tag)

The doorbell singing
your coming home
and alphabetized spots
inside me. (don’t stop)

The button on his belly
and D-3 from vending
facing ladies’ loo
at work. (got a quarter?)

Red on emergency
pay-phones on campus
and percocet coursing
through arteries. (must escape)

My happy’s not yours
but at least it can be
a single click away –
click away. (publish)