It’s not like I’m going to beg
for your touch activation,
but it does feel warm and fuzzy
beneath your thumb, your eyes,
ka-ching, they say. Although
it probably goes without saying:
if you like this, remember to like it.
Please? Subscribe, light my stage
and never stop shouting action!
No such thing as a surplus of heart.
I promise I don’t get sick of love
or lies. I love lies.
Bookmark me into your routine
so rewarding that days without me
won’t resolve the same.
Accept me and every subsequent update,
enable my cookies, my terms, my conditions,
confirm that you’re not another robot.
Share me until trace amounts of me
echo through the dreams of strangers.
Help make me into their relationship goals,
so convincing that kids won’t believe
we were ever separate; going to tell
my kids that we never were.
Brandyn Johnson is an instructor of English at Black Hills State University in Western South Dakota and holds a B.S. in English and an MFA in Creative Writing. His poetry has appeared in Sugar House Review, Gravel, Dunes Review, and others. I live in Rapid City, South Dakota with my wife, Anna, and our daughter, Ari Lisboa.