The window blinks empty. Waiting
for you to connect, my brain bumps
curdle, seasick and expanding on all the faces
I haven’t seen since high school, all the eligible
singles and pizza places within a half mile
and their accompanying pissed off reviews.
My face starts sagging in a tiny box in the corner.
I’ve run out of Frasier episodes to rewatch so
the internet digs deeper, feeds on my boredom, feeds
directly into my sweaty body’s swell. My asshole
moans for me to move while I skim
articles for news about the wall I’ve built
in my stomach. Maybe you’ll arrive on screen
and I’ll tell you about it and we’ll fact check each other
in bed. Maybe I’ll tell myself to shut up
through the webcam. Maybe I’ll tell my mother
we met in a book store or write break up texts
while mixing drinks with Mountain Dew,
upload self-help videos of myself slurring
drunk and over-caffeinated. Maybe you’ll watch
and glare at me from behind your phone. You can’t stand
what I post or don’t post and I can’t stand the look
you give me when you’re not responding to my texts,
when I’m busy clicking and clicking for something else.
Bob Sykora is an MFA candidate at UMass Boston and the poetry editor for Breakwater Review. His chapbook “I Was Talking About Love – You Are Talking About Geography” was a winner of the 2016 Nostrovia! Press chapbook contest and will be published in July. He can be found at bobsykora.tumblr.com.