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I’m Really Trying Tonight

Is there a friend in this poem? Can I make a friend here?
Can you play through the lines a second time
and find an ending
that wasn’t here before? Am I there? Is there a subreddit
on this? If you find your dead scientist friend’s
obtuse cosmograph
on a table in your ransacked home office in October 2046

and take it to the firelit woods behind your house in 2029
can you come back here, to this poem, in 2016,
and get “the good ending”? I’m not trying to write this
“a certain way.” This isn’t another “metamodern” frolic.
I’m not being rhetorical or whisking my poetic skirts.
I’m not asking for a friend. I’m looking for my friend.

I’m not expecting success. I’m looking around this page
and trying to discover its capacity. Could we get strobes
in here? If I turn the house lights down in this poem
can we use its lighting to illuminate your mood or mine?
How do I light this? How do I light what I say?

That’s a stupid question, but I’m asking you. I’m asking
whether, if this poem asks you a question, like “why,”
would you find your way here to give me your answer?
What kind of answers are here?
If you email this poem a question, could there be an AI
sitting silent on a server in Aurora
that responds in real time somewhere on this page?
Can we do that? Do we have that functionality? Is it better
to feel on the page

or in VR? How does the feeling change? Does my friend?
Have you changed, friend?
Is love different here?
Are you waiting for me here? On the page? My friend?
How do I get from this page to yours, and yours to you?

Posted 06/30/16
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