It’s been 5 years here today.  Five effervescent years.  And I’ve never (though always) been gone.

The feeling’s real.  I love you and you and you and you and…

Oh  hell.  I might as well admit it. 

It ain’t a writer’s love. 

It’s purely blog lust.

It’s the must of oozing, the cost of schmoozing, the reason I’m boozing.

Words.

And beyond those words, images.

And beyond those images, real people with real bodies.

If I could only get my real hands on you.  Again.

All of you whom I crave so have a key on my laptop’s keypad ( except ‘i’ which is reserved for me) dedicated to you.  And as I type ‘your letter’, I feel ‘the touch’.  You may have noticed that I repeat certain letters more than others.  Take the letter ‘u’ for instance.  I am always fondling ‘u’, pressing against ‘u’, remotely succumbing to ‘u’.  It’s fate.  Look at your keypad.  ‘u’ and  ‘i’ are forever together.  Even when ‘u’ (every so often as ‘u’ do) turn away from me and ask ‘ y’ it is so,  ‘i’  merely shuffle in place, cast my look aside and admit ‘o, o, o, o,’.  ‘o’ is all 'i' can say, until, entirely dejected by your temporary flight from intimacy, 'i' cast my head downwards and realize it’s ‘o’ ‘k’.   ‘u’ are ‘u’ and ‘i’ am ‘i’ , together we’re the ‘ui’ in suite (the we in sweet) and our eternal constellation’s no lie.

So to the extent that my blog is an orgy, my laptop’s the lovebed and we’re all key-cuddled forever together.

 Blog lust.  Comment to comment, dust to dust.