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.
