It started with the stars.
That may be cliché
but that’s how it started.
You told me
there was a meteor shower tonight
but you were two towns over
so we couldn’t watch it
together.
I stayed up until three a.m.
standing in the silence
of my front yard
sipping a steaming cup
of hot chocolate
on a cold, crisp night
straining my neck
as I looked to the sky
in search of shooting stars.
For a few minutes
there was nothing
and then I saw
a brilliant streak of light
and another
and another.
We texted each other
beneath that clear indigo sky
sharing short sentences
about shooting stars
and even then
in a moment so simple
I knew
I wanted to see you.
Dinner was a feast for the senses
the sound of your voice
the sight of your smile
flashing every once in a while
like a star across the sky.
When we said goodbye
I thought about kissing you
but we were in a car
and cars are an awkward place
for a first kiss
so I asked
if I would see you again
and you said yes
not just with your words
but with the rise in your voice
and the shine in your eyes
and so I said goodbye
with a smile and a sigh.
What came next
was a dance of text
from the daily hellos
typed into our phones
to the back and forth
of real-time chat
using Alt-Tab
to bounce back and forth
between the rabbit holes
of Google and Cracked
and the digital pages
of my unfinished novel
waiting around
for the sound
of that fateful Facebook pop
an electronic notification
of the continuation
of our conversation.
For a while
I enjoyed the dance
of clever words
scrolling down our screens
as synchronized streams
of text and video and audio
radiated into our rooms
and bridged the distance between us.
But soon
my thoughts drifted back
to analog reality
to the world of flesh and blood
where I could hear your voice
and look into your eyes
and tell you how I felt
without wondering
if the message
had gotten through.
As days turned into weeks
the dance of text continued
a lively dance
that quickened my pulse
but a dance
that was confined
to a small LCD screen
and probably always would be.
The time wasn’t right
the wound was too fresh
the words were drawing us closer
but we were only close
in the world of text
a world somewhere
between the screens
where we dare to share
what our vocal chords
have left unspoken
but only at a distance
in the silent fluorescence
of an empty room.
The dance continues
so maybe someday
it will whirl and twirl its way
out of the world of text
and into analog reality
into the light of day
into the sun, the wind, the rain
dancing into the wee hours
beneath the dizzying expanse of stars
that we looked up to
on that night.
But on this night
we have only
text on a screen.
Left with nothing more
than text to give you
I give this text to you.