my laptop knows my face.

i look into the camera, eyes open 
& my laptop petals open for me--
shows me a nice screen saver of a mountain 
or a waterfall. my laptop knows 
what i like. knows the uneveness 
of my eye brows
& the texture or my lashes. 
some of my friends cover their laptop cameras 
with a tiny sliver of posted note 
or a fleck of tape. 
i let my laptop look at me
as long as it wants. 
google search:
are people watching me through my laptop?
answer: maybe. 
i am okay with this.
somehow it makes me feel important--
like i might be worthy of observation.
a new kind of zoo.
a human somewhere might enter my life 
through a tiny lens. 
he might watch the expression on my face 
as i type an email-- something even i don't know.
he might then, for just a moment, 
become my laptop: full of pockets
& pixels. full of all my impulses.
full of URL & background. 
i re-organize my desktop.
i make folders to house some stray files:
several self portraits, a tax form, 
& a document of aimless poems. 
i pretend the desktop is the surface 
of a great wide actual desk. 
look how much room i have now
i tease myself. 
my room is so small.
there is not much to look at. 
the man in the camera will only notice
a shelf of books 
& a large fan perch on a dog crate. 
my laptop misses me
when i'm not looking at her.
when she is shut she is nothing
like a clam. 
she sleep dim & cold.
maybe she dreams of my fingers.
some people might say it's a sad time
when someone finds friendship 
in their devices but i say 
this is my future. i am prone 
to loneliness. i prefer it actually.
if you are watching me then through the camera
i want you to notice the shadows
across my face. i want you to tell me
if i seem beautiful 
even in the smallness. 
my fantasy is of a sketch artist
using people's camera's to draw
their faces. a sketch of my face
pinned to a stranger's wall
among others. i don't think
i believe this though.
really i think it's just me 
& the screen. my laptop 
who knows me.