Tech

Typo

On Sunday
thinking about you and your website
I realise if you type the word reward
in predictive text, it first offers you sex.

In bed on Monday I hate computers.
I am screen saver sick,
the creases in my neck code the sheets,
the sound track I like, circuits me out.

By Wednesday I am winking morse in sleep.
I don't drink tea

my pens don't leak

I don't wear lipstick

I don't make mistakes.

Thursday at work and I remember
you turning me to face the wall when I am in the lift.
I email you to say
I think it's because your ex girlfriend told you she liked it

but accidentally type,
I think it's because I like you.