It doesn't seem so long ago
It doesn't seem so long ago
the coveted makita drill
in the photographs
the lingering smell
a fugal MIDI march
in the shimmering heat
an unmistakable old song
repeatedly encountering
along the road, the apple trees
carcass of a rare Apple III
old slow internal modems
left me behind in the barn
old communications components
in opposite directions
the slow bounce
the mouse was gone
still exposed
the familiar sound of his voice
it bounced on the dirty white
in a dark room
it too began to cycle noisily
No sense lying around
beneath my dirty feet
all the components were clearly visible
as an old song suggests
completely forgetting about Cupid
the surprise with which she greeted me
the burning tips
it doesn't seem so very long ago
the words of an old song
streamed down his face as he talked
printed on antique continuous feed paper
so effectively trapped
a black shadow fell on the documentation
the lapping of her tongue
exactly where I am going
only slightly off key
its stiff rippled surface
12 inappropriate men
purchased with the stipend
first they get your hormones going
putting candy in their mouths
have some candy
I removed the wrapper
cluttered with empty bottles of Corona
their notorious welcome bark
"Won't you come back Bill Bailey?"
their faded buckram covers
"Did you have a black and white dog?"
torn from an old paperback book
all the old episodes
dark circles under
data transfer protocols lined up
The words on the screen were barely legible
were these words
the computer accepted my input
in the photograph
blinking at the camera
back to rows of beautiful bodies
gopher error messages
snow on the banks of the highway
if he didn't come
blocking his view of the sea
redolent of honey and cream
stuck in the sand between us
in the men's locker room
while all around me men undressed
"this is not a wienie roast"
host not found
how you read this stuff
as if randomly generated
ample, supple, pliant, plush
for clues that we belonged
a bic pen
a drive along the coast
wrong with my radio
expensive looking white sleeveless shirt
no rail on the narrow road
just another street play
later, they whisper
"It is funny, isn't it?"
Rover telephone tech
lobster dipped in sweet melted butter
a fried clam close to my mouth
grazing - like bit mapped images
all your hard returns
with propellers that spin
the other letter
in the warm front seat
in the warm front seat
that Prom picture of you
I didn't have a tent
of defective PCMIA cards
my tears were not apparent
at the monitor
closer to the embers
with backless fancy fronts
legs crossed in front of her
a heated muiltiple message argument
discarded Microsoft mice
the slow emergence of visual poetry
it moved slowly towards me
an old chair into pieces
in a backwater
in the center of each link
an old model but
a successful sender
a burning ring of fire
while fire engines screamed
say I already ate one
bring beer in your lotus mouth
oh lord, stuck in Lodi again
at a who window
I think I crashed Galveston
deep enough to ski on in summer
of code in ancient languages
teller of semi-truthful stories
an endless flow of written words
in the warm desert sun
still have the pants
please let me sit beside you
grew a little larger
don't worry pretty lady
the only thing she knew
beautiful fabrics into the net
Pinniochio?
without warning
reset