Across ironic space
the Internet
replaces dusty country roads,
swimming holes and buggies

bumping for an easy load
of soft romance
dancing in the dreams
of tintype images

Frozen in a distant memory,

But there we are souls outstretched,
keyboards locked and rattled dark with

Lust from mental seeds
and long erotic streams.

They mold the ions groping with the groins
stolen from the baskets 
covered,
skirts sliding

With stems of blossoms
quick electrified
and surged
with cables

Held in motion,
crystallized.

(c) 1996 Oliver Smith