CAPTCHA wants to test if I am human.

Select all squares containing desire.

I click:
the church bell
the airplane window
the blinking cursor
the little cartoon fire on the hot sauce packet
your name lighting up my phone

Try again.

CAPTCHA asks if I have ever loved something
I could not touch.

I select:
the moon
the large stuffed animal prize at the fair
my dollar the vending machine ate in 1998
every beautiful person on the internet
you

Correct. Checkmark.
You may continue.

Continue where?
into an electric nowhere?
into a glittering mouth?
into a rendezvous room I have visited a thousand times
and never once entered?

Saint Valentine works customer support and keeps saying,
“Your call is very important to us!”

I know it, baby.
I know.
That’s why I stay on the line.

My Daddy has a cracked iPhone
and sends me pictures of a cloud above the mountains,
dreaming of electric Beanie Baby sheep.

“Is this you?” I text.

Three dots appear.
Three dots disappear.

The universe started a message in 2006 and never sent it.
I forgive her.
I, too, have kept drafts.
I, too, have written:

I’m sorry my body keeps becoming a metaphor.
I’m sorry I kissed every sign looking for the thing it signified.
I’m sorry I wanted proof.

CAPTCHA asks: Are you ready?
No.

Correct.

CAPTCHA asks: Is it for always always?
I don’t know.

Correct.

CAPTCHA asks: Would you like to save your progress?
I press my whole heart against the screen.

Try again.