Laptop Dance

He wants them “Barely Legal Teens!”

to flit and flick across his lap

- laptop screen.

Keystrokes caress

as they undress

in a bendy, never-ending loop

all perk and bounce

no curves

to droop.

Watch his eyes dance, his lips curl

at the kick and lick of a nulligravida girl.

Wide angles open, eyes tight, lips wet.

He’s almost there

but not there yet.

His Myrrha mirage

on the cyber machine,

but there’s no Cinyras, no hero-king.

See those scars that track the barely legal lifelines?

Those lost and lonely, the lost minds?

Just his changelings, chilling on a cyber hub.

Cause my legal’s long gone

and there’s the rub.

I’ve been a poet since I was five. Then after university, I worked at the Toronto Star as a journalist, editor, and public editor. Happier now, I write poetry.

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