Object Poem

You, object. And you: object. You, as 

me (object). Also her: object. Map 

and also measure out a —sort of— world 

:object. Every touch a bat click. 

B A B E,  L O V E  I S  L I K E  S O N A R 

(you say when we talk about it later) But, why does it fold back 

on us? When ontologically every part in this assemblage 
(yes) has — sort of — equivalence

So loving one (object) is a matter of convenience. But still, object, we are all

pouring stuff into Whatsapp.