And there you have it,
Two words tormenting
In their willful challenge,
Sassy and streetwise
Beyond their limited
Number of characters,
Cocksure, strutting,
Very much in your face,
Ace, turn up the bass
And hand over
The damned microphone,
You’re about to be schooled
In the fine old-time art
Of saying nothing (for,
Really, what’s left?) but
Making it sound so good
The pixels cling to the page
In something very much
Like love, like meaning,
Like a momentary, though
Fragmentary, stay.
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