Page(s)

When I write,

I am me.

Little bits of Lucy come out

like squozen toothpaste on to

an expectant page.

Each word tumbles out

as if pushing the other

in a queue.

The domino effect of

thought,

crystallised and channelled through

touch and finger;

the thought of the

hand,

the birthing of letters

as each tap tempers

new text.

When I write

I am with you.

Surfing with you,

on you, in you.

Less tactile

than visions that may

distract,

and yet conspire to

inspire.

It’s funny how new tranches

of life pulse through these

limbs,

to express what they desire,

catalysing with technology.

I am reproduced,

iterated and multiplied –

screengrabbed,

Control+F’d –

hand and word,

you and me.