I still Google you.
That is my secret shame, my little sinkhole
I still Google you, once a month on
a Friday night after precisely
4.5 drinks
and I find nothing
and I feel something
that I do not understand

except that this month you generated results
for the first time
including a grainy, distant photo.
You’ve got thinner
and look blander, somehow, like
the violence has gone out of your beauty
or maybe you just
strike me less?

It looks like nothing else has changed
you haven’t moved
you have the same hobbies
and yet I
for all the earth has moved for me in these years
I feel no sense of victory
after all
I still Google you.


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