The screen
doesn’t change
what it is.
A phone
isn’t permission.
A notification
isn’t consent.
You didn’t become
more charming
because the trench coat
became a smartphone.
It’s still exposure.
Still entitlement.
Still the strange belief
that my surprise
should somehow
be mistaken
for desire.
No.
It’s just awkward.
And somewhere,
your mother
is probably wondering
why no one
ever texts you back.
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