This is for Julie. I beg you, please, please do not leave any smart-ass comments.
Title
He sits with a personal computer in his lap
And turns things over and over
Wondering, worrying, wondering more
Does it ever slow down?
He sits and feels very far away
Feels and feels and feels
A simple engagement
But it borders, it teeters on something?
He sits with modern advances
Temperature control, digital music, electric light
Enjoyed three squares
But it's never really enough, is it?
He sits and wishes he could be in Portland
To simply exist in her city
Because this just won't do
What occupies that brain at this moment?
He sits and thinks and moves his fingers
Who the fuck do I think I am
Writing such mediocre prose
Seriously, who the fuck do you think you are?
He sits and alternately hates and loves himself
Close your eyes but just for about thirty seconds
Now close them for a minute
Did anything make you want to cry?
He sits and wishes he didn't just write the previous 24 lines
And then thinks about writing 24 more
Billy Collins comes to mind
Does he dare make a poetic allusion?
He sits and tastes the beer and tobacco on his breath
Looks at the clock and
It's way past your bedtime, young man
What will she think about this because it's for her?
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