Molly McGhee



we Skype in the light. well, i Skype in the light.

your half is blossoms and black. a whir from the keys.

we are all pixels to each other, big squares cut small.

i cannot touch you but, it’s almost okay, i can still remember

what it was like: a lot of small bumps and clammy skin.

i liked touching you for some reason.

i still think that I would like touching you.

touching you makes me feel a mixture of calmness and

small flutterings. a million little bits of data

going through invisible air. i refrain from telling you

that I would like to be data; that could be skewed as suicidal,

given my history. right now, talking to you,

i am very much human. all wobbly lips and eyes.

i touch your computer-face, not the same,

unfortunately, as touching your actual face,

which is soft and warm, pocketed with bumps.

i would not want it to be the same. the d i s t a n c e

makes the real thing better? as i typed that

i began to doubt the statement. also the way i spelled distance

was pretentious so i apologize for that. for some reason,

being so far away from you has made me love you more.

distance makes the heart grow, i guess. we talk only when you’re tired,

you lisp over words. your chest a massive conglomeration

of pimples and bones. i love you. how many times

can I type it out? a million, i think. how many times

can I say it? at least two thousand and four.






I wouldn’t say being inside of you is particularly warm or gratifying.

Being inside of you is probably what being inside of me feels like for most people.


There’s a lot of build up to the moment but

the actual moment is pretty anti-climatic.


I’ve only had sex with two people, though.

You are much more experienced than I am, New York.
Much better at removing yourself from emotional situations than I am, New York.

Much better at knowing when to remove yourself from a situation, New York,


right now I am moving away from you. People are good at leaving us, New York.

This is what they call a continuing metaphor.


New York I didn’t get to see very much of you

but I have heard a lot about you and all of it is probably wrong


or exaggerated. I would like to get to know you better, New York.

We could go walk around the waterfront or maybe we could hold hands.


If you wanted to touch knees at your mother’s dinner table, New York,

we could touch knees.


New York, I have loved a lot of cities

but I could probably love you, too.
New York, New York, I know that you have lied.

New York, I know you lie.
New York, tell me a lie. New York,

have you been inside of yourself?

New York, tell me you have.

New York people leave you all of the time.
New York, I love you.
New York.




Molly Louise is from Nashville. She attends college in Burlington,

Vermont. These two places are opposites. She can be found at or on twitter @mollymcghee