Do You Know?

Do you know Johnny?

How can I answer
that question?
How is that answer
so simple
yet filled with
ambiguity and perplexity?

If you know him,
send him a friend request.

If it was that easy,
I would have done it by now
instead of trolling your site
like an animal laying in wait.
I know you.
Or at least I did,
way back in the mystery
of years gone by
and the memories
fade to nothing.

Do you know this person?

I knew how your eyes shined
when you won a challenge,
how your fingers
clutched your arms
as you slept.
I knew when you would
laugh at a joke
or if you needed a drink
after a bad day.
I learned you quickly,
memorized your love
of mafia movies
and metal music,
your strange obsession
with chicken wings
and Mountain Dew.
I studied your skin
and its scars
and curves
and inky pictures
of pyramids and outlaws.

Do you know Johnny?

Why yes I do.
He used to own my body,
his fingers guiding me,
knowing me,
molding me with his strength. He knew me, loved me,
crawled inside of me,
and never left.
Why does a button
cause so much pain?
A button you won’t push
and you don’t know I can see.


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