Typewriter

We sat snug by the table with the hovering leg.

We placed a hand to milky carbon copies,

Grasping each other’s breath with curved inky incisions,

We glided.

Across the blank terrain, in the flat fibers,

I constructed our palatial story.

A story of kings and queens adorned in robes,

Gold awnings and crystal chandeliers,

Marble for tables and king crabs for snack.

I sat with you in our palace until i lifted my hands.

The stucco was smeared,

The table wobbly,

electricity off,

and beans cold.

I loved our embrace.

We bled.

We loved.

And we sat.