Midnight Laptop-Chris Crittenden

pale sheet near a face which stares like an asteroid,
the eyes craters full of the screen’s dull silver,
and the latter an impostor,
trying to be whatever the other wants.
neither going anywhere,
both half shut down
with heavy pushy dreams.
neither offering what the other needs,
these phantoms who only share so much:
tender keystrokes
and responsive glow.