Here’s the poem:
If you'd like a different length, form, or to remove the literal phrase and use a metaphor instead, tell me which direction. www xxx 250 hot
250 heartbeats measured in milliseconds, hot as summer asphalt, sudden and brief. We trade our breaths for bandwidth, ghosting edges of longing through the luminous belief. Here’s the poem: If you'd like a different
Log on, lean close — the signal tastes of salt. www xxx 250 hot: a spark, then quiet asphalt. hot as summer asphalt