I aim to be precise with my words,
careful, measured, purposeful.
Each inflection, each touchpoint of
fingertips to pen to paper to keyboard,
Has a meaning.
Has a purpose.
Has a place.
Each character yielding unpredictable power,
of stories untold or those rinsed, washed-
repeated so often they fade into the
blue denim warmth of when
you're cheek to cheek.
"Economical," he said. "That's the word."
Funny how our most complimentary descriptors
tie back to transactions,
each adjective focused on the value
a word may bring to an exchange.
This one,
for the low cost of two years of friendship,
is telling.
That one,
for the high cost of drinks,
indicates there's more than meets the eye.
And this last one, well
let me tell you
it can be purchased at hotels in Utah
with monthly installments
of investment and curiosity and three easy payments of $9.99.
Limited time only for those who explore
how time warps in stillness,
how pockets contain universes.
With touch, though, I forget to enunciate -
Cost: Articulation. Presentation. Understanding.
Benefit: Intimacy. Trust. Vulnerability.
Analysis: Unsure. Unclear. Unknown.
In the long tail, it's subtle grazes, high fives, a shoulder squeeze or two.
But the spikes in the graph, for enterprise customers?
It's prolonged closeness. It's comfort.
It's being held and holding,
that protective pause that leads to,
"I am content."
The embrace that inspires,
"I feel safe. You see me. This makes me feel loved."
The playful gestures that say,
"I don't know how to say thank you anymore because the pen steals my words and the world steals my heart and my body is not as intentional as Broca's area and and andI don't know how I don't want to I don't know how to stop my hands from tumbling."
I can feel the gasps of air
trapped since my past life
spilling out through my chest and
the want to finger paint into the palms of your hands
that sunset I saw when the world stretched forever,
and it reminded me of how I can bring the pastels
to guide you back to the next sunrise
when you call me from your own dark corners.
So, how does one measure the returns of touch?
For as much as I measure the weight of my words,
there's a scarcity to my tactile language - a demand
that's terrifying and all consuming and I didn't realize
my frivolous gifting depleted the supply I have to give.
If I know the price, the toll I deliver to my warden heart
to pull back the curtains so old they're immobile
from the weight of the dust-
does that conversely define value?
Did the equation call for the division or multiplication of
the risk when it's exposed that there are dents in the stage,
the actors are absent, the props are nowhere to be found...
Should the formula take into consideration questions like,
"will you become a member of those I formerly trusted?"
Please inform me, in the spirit of transactions,
what are the economics of touch?
careful, measured, purposeful.
Each inflection, each touchpoint of
fingertips to pen to paper to keyboard,
Has a meaning.
Has a purpose.
Has a place.
Each character yielding unpredictable power,
of stories untold or those rinsed, washed-
repeated so often they fade into the
blue denim warmth of when
you're cheek to cheek.
"Economical," he said. "That's the word."
Funny how our most complimentary descriptors
tie back to transactions,
each adjective focused on the value
a word may bring to an exchange.
This one,
for the low cost of two years of friendship,
is telling.
That one,
for the high cost of drinks,
indicates there's more than meets the eye.
And this last one, well
let me tell you
it can be purchased at hotels in Utah
with monthly installments
of investment and curiosity and three easy payments of $9.99.
Limited time only for those who explore
how time warps in stillness,
how pockets contain universes.
With touch, though, I forget to enunciate -
Cost: Articulation. Presentation. Understanding.
Benefit: Intimacy. Trust. Vulnerability.
Analysis: Unsure. Unclear. Unknown.
In the long tail, it's subtle grazes, high fives, a shoulder squeeze or two.
But the spikes in the graph, for enterprise customers?
It's prolonged closeness. It's comfort.
It's being held and holding,
that protective pause that leads to,
"I am content."
The embrace that inspires,
"I feel safe. You see me. This makes me feel loved."
The playful gestures that say,
"I don't know how to say thank you anymore because the pen steals my words and the world steals my heart and my body is not as intentional as Broca's area and and and
I can feel the gasps of air
trapped since my past life
spilling out through my chest and
the want to finger paint into the palms of your hands
that sunset I saw when the world stretched forever,
and it reminded me of how I can bring the pastels
to guide you back to the next sunrise
when you call me from your own dark corners.
So, how does one measure the returns of touch?
For as much as I measure the weight of my words,
there's a scarcity to my tactile language - a demand
that's terrifying and all consuming and I didn't realize
my frivolous gifting depleted the supply I have to give.
If I know the price, the toll I deliver to my warden heart
to pull back the curtains so old they're immobile
from the weight of the dust-
does that conversely define value?
Did the equation call for the division or multiplication of
the risk when it's exposed that there are dents in the stage,
the actors are absent, the props are nowhere to be found...
Should the formula take into consideration questions like,
"will you become a member of those I formerly trusted?"
Please inform me, in the spirit of transactions,
what are the economics of touch?
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