BIT

BIT

you summoned me
for party-games,
for romantic
themes

or so it sounded,
so it seemed

given your dancing through
all protocols,
your show and tell
and mystery

graceful
as all Hell but too
leopard fast that
I might anything retain

and there we ending
playing Monopoly diplomatically

diplomacy
monogamously
unless
in Triple Entente or
Menage a Trois

and me
in inquisition mode
determined
to interrogate your very
sensuality probe you
high and low
for heresy
(whether best
or worst of its kind)

the Turing test
the litmus test the blind taste test

with control

and me busy scribbling my way
through raw data
conclusion (and recommendations) thick
with crescendo

and to think
my original presumption
(seduced into
aberration by
Descartes demon)
was that I did not could not really exist

and therefore
would never get laid

an alternate universe somehow
devoid of sexuality

I am at
the bottom of the Seine in
Rimbaud”s
drunken boat

awaiting Nemo
my last hope of rescue

need
to go full Nautilus
to get
out of this place return
to my gone childhood

where robots are spooky by
no means mind-
expanding and
voraciously sexual

she sitting with me in a pose
that
given the technology may
well last forever

time whirling, whorling
into gold blue circular
star patterns
insistent
on their forever

soused in an artistic courage
determined to have its
(wicked) way

we are not anything
nowhere
nothing
like,the rest

merci beacoup
for
the darling sex
(you so
so slickly
do
your bit)