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romance

how’s your morning

Brian K. Noe · January 26, 2016 ·

i measure the morning by the
coffee left in the brown mug
i wait for her phone calls
i arrange the ones and zeros
i check my blood pressure again
one-twenty-three over seventy-four
heart rate fifty-six…not bad
she doesn’t call very much anymore
we are both busy at work
we are settled into our routines
maybe i ought to call her
i wouldn’t know what to say
just “hello” and “i miss you”
i guess that’s all i’ve got
half a mug of coffee left
the street sweeper just came by
maybe it’ll help with the drainage
wonder if she thinks of me

in the beginning we could spend hours on the phone or in chats going on and on about everything and sometimes we’d argue but we’d also laugh and we were so in love it just seemed like we couldn’t stand not being in contact for even a few minutes and the long distance bills were insane in fact it probably almost paid the rent just the savings on the phone bills once she moved down here

the coffee is cold and bitter
i arrange the ones and zeros
abstract and mathematical representations of things
wonder if anybody even notices them
google probably and also san francisco
at least i think they notice

i feel very abstract myself sometimes and i don’t know whether that’s something to worry about or not since it’s certainly not unique in the world at least from what i can tell from my friends on twitter and it’s not even particularly unique to me though it seems to be more common now than it was in the past or maybe i’m just able to articulate it a little better now or i think i am

i think i am going crazy
at least sometimes i think so
sometimes i just think i’m spoiled
i expect too much from life
weird tapping sound outside the window
dripping of some sort or another
it just got quieter and faster
i’m not really isolated or whatever
i have my ones and zeros
google’s algorithms stand at the ready
they wait for my next transmission

google this is me
google we have a problem
google she used to call me

cold bitter coffee ones and zeros
one-twenty-three over seventy-four
not bad

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: abstraction, coffee, Love, romance, work

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