For the User Experience
The UX artist chose us
because we’re ripe and isolated.
(Or did she step our siblings flat
then shoot from below
to obscure the act?)
Our stems are green and pliable.
She posed us so we touch
as if to say when I am with you
there is nothing else.
Our petals are office orange
under windows blue.
I’m happy. If the wind rose
we'd lean apart. If our stamen
stirred, we’d pollinate.
We'd follow the sun.
Like wallpaper on desktops
our life in waiting still
does not exist. I can see
why you feel we need some
real time--where we would display
our affections privately.
You ask me about the weather.
It is all spring--sunny and warm.
Please don’t ask me to marry you,
or why our sepals, like mini-skirts,
hold the bloom in the best light.
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