Vid Chat Poem by Cat Singh

The man was sweet,
really, he was.
He was gentle and didn't speak,
just typed and let the words
pop up on the screen across a blue background
(like sky writing, like deciphering pictures
in the clouds) .
He smiled a lot.

He said we'd just talk
(and maybe strip a little)
and I'd get 40 dollars and maybe 60 dollars
if there was a next time,
but now I am naked and doing things
I have never done with a stranger
(All silently. All locked mouths.
A language of breath) .

There is a moment where I am propped up
on my knees, my body long and soft
and nonhuman,
and I think "I don't want to be here.
I don't want to do this, "
but maybe I am beautiful.
Maybe (here)
I am beautiful,
but nowhere,
nowhere
else.

There is something about
pretending to feel pleasure:
it makes you numb.
I am a computer (All digital,
derealized) just following commands.
He finishes and says goodbye,
says he had so much fun.

That night, I dream
that he left me a bad review on the website
where he found me. When I wake,
I check online and see that he left me five stars
and the word "Amazing"
in all caps.