Love in the Time of Corona #8

She said my last human touch was two months ago.
She swallowed the drink and looked at me
with my pulse
her only accompaniment.

What about you? she asked
but I had no answer.
I couldn’t think back that far
but I couldn’t think of much
but her touch
and when it had been experienced
and by who
and how
and where and why

why are you so quiet? she laughed
while I gulped
and she drank
and we continued
our terse little absence of exchange
over computer screens
for a little longer

before we retired to separate corners
when she did whatever
she was going to do
and I did what I
most certainly did.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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