I was sitting in a restaurant with my wife
when my website went down.
I pushed the button on my phone
but it wasn’t working.
I asked to borrow my wife’s phone
but the website still wouldn’t load.
I had ceased to exist.
My wife told me to put the phone away
and to focus on the meal, the beautiful evening,
but how could I do those things?
The universe had nullified my presence,
cancelled my very being.
If I was not there for everyone to find me,
then was I really there at all?
But I’m here, my wife said.
I’m right in front of you,
with a menu and new lipstick.
I reached for her hand
and felt the warmth, the flesh.
To let go now, I simply said,
would be a kind of death.