Usability touching.

 
            the drawing of

            pretending in a dress

            (a woman?)

            to be mother nature

            pretending to a woman

            (robe?)

            this arm touching

            the impossibly immense noun

            this arm touching

            an impossibly immense noun

            balls full of

            having serious ball

            under her (robes)

            is she the conduit?

            I think she’s the conduit

            mulch topographic touchscreen

            island of feet

            I had sex with you finite

            the happening of it return

            to my crotch as I reach

            over sky

            for some peanuts

            am I the conduit?

            I think I’m the conduit

            digital goddess

            singed by digital moss

            pass the big I

            exterior stairs

            how have an eye

            when it’s full of pupusas

            she’s only a drawing

            of a digital parking lot

            IF ANGELS HAVE EYES

            THAT ARE MORE BAGS

            OF TEETH THAN CLOUDS

            SWAYINGLY UNDER

            CLICKABLE ROBES

            THEN I HAVE SEX

            FOR TEN MINUTES

            & CHANGE MY CAREER

            TO A BEAUTIFUL “S”

This poem appears in the 2005 Anthology
View all poems by Cathy Eisenhower