Tinder

I know this has nothing to do with wood but all I can think of is fire and I know it's either left or right but consider my father proposing to my mother while bombs undressed the capital down to rubble made him trade a burgundy Jaguar for an olive green Renault 12 how profile meant the outline of jagged futures soldered into destiny

this illuminated stick that one names an app for finding the flame while unknowingly igniting a forest of oblivion. swipe left, swipe right, metamorphosis of the instant, each profile a pretext to forget that everything is only bad poetry adapted to modern tastes. in these ephemeral exchanges we exchange soul fragments and sometimes find someone who has read the same book, who looks at the sea as if it were hope.