I Google you
Late at night when I don't know what to do
I find photos you've forgotten you were in
Put up by your friends

I do, I Google you
When the day is done and everything is through
I read your journal that you kept that month in France
I've watched you dance

And I'm pleased your name is practically unique
It's only you and a would-be PhD from Chesapeake
Who writes papers on the structure of the sun
I've read each one

But there's that box, and there's your name
Somehow it never makes the pain grow less or fade or disappear

I think that I should save my soul
And I should crawl back in my hole
But it's too easy just to fold and type your name again, I fear

I Google you
When I'm all alone and don't know what to do
And each shred of information that I gather says you've got somebody new
And it really shouldn't matter
Ought to blow up my computer
But instead
I Google you