love at the prompt

My love is a liquid crystal display; 
her caress a blinking cursor.

 

All night long she has her way, 
with mail, and talk, and write.

 

I see her looking back at me, 
through a pair of keys we pressed.

 

She knows I'm looking for her. Stalking
through the streets of Citta Modem.

 

With love in mind.

 

There she is! In the 'w'. She spies me staring so, 
and quickly types a "bye".

 

CMD? bye <ENTER>

 

Don't be fooled. I'll soon see her blush in halting
mail, replacing innocence in the air.

 

She knows now who I am, and wills my thought
as hers.

 

My love is a liquid crystal display. I shudder in her
embrace.

 

My next dial-in programmed with care!

 

Author's note: modemcitya text-only precursor to the World Wide Web, was an experiment in reality-simulation, just like the recording studio. Click on the hypertext to read more.
     There's more still. More about the animating god Eros who dwells in such machines, beckoning punters to jump in and play.