Analog Thoughts From a Tent by the River

I awaken just past midnight,

Tears falling from darkened skies

Pattering against my wind-blown tent,

Wondering how we will feel

When safely tucked away

In our metal shells

            Observing eternity-

No roof needed, nor food, nor rest.

Will we digitized beings ever wonder

How it felt in analog life

            To kiss,

            Feeling that warm, pleasant tingle

As flesh meets flesh?

Will we long

            For that state of mind

So much we try to reproduce it some way?

Pure thoughts are not determined

By one’s station in life.

A dog’s bark jolts me back to present.

I snuggle deeper into my sleeping bag

Drifting off to dream

            Of the last time

                        I felt,

                                 Flesh to flesh,

                                                            Another humans’ touch.

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