I used to sit cross-legged on my bed, scribbling poetry into journals.

Now there is Twitter.

Where is that cabin the woods? The one near the beach-with-heaps-of-sea-glass?

I’m going there soon.

140 Characters (or The Dimwit Martini)

By Christina Friedrichsen

Communication is

as indelible as the white whisp of an airplane on a cotton candy sky.

Deep as paper, but stylish, with Ikea quality.

Embrace it, baby.

Condense.

Learn to love it. No. Love, love, love it.

Like the halo of shoes that floats above your head

or the shades of lipstick

that smear glossy exclamation marks onto your

pretend smile.

Do not lament

the yesterday scent of paraffin

on the bedside table.

The loops of ink

trailing on the page –

words written,

untexted.

Embrace it, baby.

The code of characters

140 strong.

Muscle up

on your whipped

cream words.

Pretend it’s a cocktail party.

Make-believe that the

dimwit martini

is going down

smooth.

Just don’t let ‘em

see you spit

it out

in your purse.