Every time I want to see your face.
I go to Facebook.
Because I feel like more of a freak.
Showing up on your door step.
There's something soothing about.
You not knowing.
I'm creepishly checking you out.
Every time I want to touch your face.
I go to Facebook.
And I take my fingers and rub them over
the hard of my computer.
The moisture between my fingerprints
and the screen, incessantly squeaking.
All over your face.
If I imagine hard enough.
I begin to feel the softness of your
skin and flesh.
And when I turn around, there you are
standing.
So, I reach out, and touch your face.
Because touching your face on Facebook,
isn't as wonderful, as feeling it in person.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jacob Woods studies sociology at Hamline University in St. Paul Minnesota. He is addicted to taking creative writing classes and might major in that as well. He keeps a blog at Good as Gay where he blabbers about LGBTQ soup things and other intellectual matters that concern him.
Bay Laurel / Volume 1, Issue 2 / Winter 2012