Tangerine words are the only ones I'll eat
and spit out,

coating the computer's translucent skin.

When you read them, with whatever

life of fruit in your non-typing hand,

You will taste my tanginess,

My bitterness, my nectar.

You will type fast and ask me

where I got my fruit.

I don't know.

I don't think I've ever known.

But I can share it with you.

I can spew the seed in your direction

and hope it knocks some roots into your

fingers and hands and heart.

How long before you write back?

For your eyes only.

see how tangerine words

dance on your screen.