The Search

I cast the power cord of my MacBook Pro across the table to Lindsay, like I’m on a sailboat and she’s waiting on the dock. I’m even wearing a polo shirt. She plugs it into the socket underneath her and pulls her chair around so we explore Google Earth together. We like to go to Street View and stroll the avenues of Paris. We click into cafés with five star ratings and scroll through pics form canal tour lines. We’ve been around the world. Right now we’re at a Starbucks on the corner with Carmel Lattes. A line of customers under track lighting snakes out the door, and the rest float the lobby waiting for seats. I gaze at the green sign glowing out front in the night, a squiggly haired beauty with a crown. I point her out, and we stare. I say, “If you squint really hard it’s like she’s a mermaid,” and it gets me a kiss on the cheek. Far off are a few bleak stars that we think might be a constellation, so we open a new window and begin a search.