You, a Figment

_____Sapiosexual – a person attracted to intelligence
flashes across my homescreen, a letter
from my Vocabulary app drafted in concern
_____a reminder that
we are too hungry for the things others
want in us — And if we have not found the one,
what should that say about our own intellect?

I am alone here, where night splits the day
again. It never ends, does it?
The ceaseless vying for the night. _____Ready the film:
reels strewn their knowing arms about me, _____arms that hold
the mind — the mind
that churns a chorus just for me —
_____do you know how deep
_____the ocean is at the trench; do big fish go to
_____mollusk cafes, or grieve their dead; have you considered why
_____we do not cherish the things that others
_____leave behind in the homes ____they abandon
that we are to nurture;
_____it seems a crime we do not plant
more perennials as gifts.

Desert camels and ice cream sundaes flash oblique shapes
across the ceiling —
Yes, you say, I see it all in color.
_____Do you see The Woman Riding a Donkey
_____Around Saturn’s Rings?
You ask _____in return.
I say
_____Not this time;
_____Maybe she has flown to Space.

The window lets in the night, its air ____tempers my heat,
a wish for this wetness to be in remembrance.
Someday, even loss may call me lucky
if only to have briefly known your voice by day,
to have conjured you from this slight of night,
the chill of mountain wind, the smell ___of dust.