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The wind would be my carrier wave
And I would submit my words
I'd have no need for the stale
Piece of plastic strange to my ear
Stranger to the immediate

I'd know my pure thought would blow
Cupid's blessings through your window
Would rest upon vapid eyelids
Not just the ambiguous words
Eyes and smells and sculpture too

I'd be e-mailing you all the time
My nerves on fire, same message
Same synaptic desperation
I'd show you the soft collision
Where our minds met wordless

I would blow this air into you
And within it's tongue of electric flame
Arcing miles you'd feel me
Like a blue touchpaper
And my heart would crease like tissue

Bending with the pain of kisses
So that with each love-byte I'd bless
The thoughtless millions of us
Would mould our binary sex
Deep into the lust of fingers

© David Incoll 2001

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Copyright by David Incoll 2001