In summer, we thought we knew us;
three months of email volleying
between home, work. I thought
one thousand miles not strong enough
to disperse the image -
you, your laptop, a patio,
Colorado evening, evening mountains,
deer, a doe, images inside of an image
of words.

Was Austin the same for you?
Could you see me, alone
in the tired sophistication of
a quaint coffee shop,
painting the picture through the
web of poetry?
Did you, when you weren't denying
that you could fall in love with a computer,
imagine me in the image
of your God?

When we moved close enough,
when we first looked into our eyes,
void of recognition,
hung on a disillusioned rope,
lost for the words, for the image,
did you long for the loneliness,
the long summer evenings,
the sound of nobody's voice
on your laptop, sounding,
"you've got mail?"