poem, poetry, Aphrodite, The Matrix ,

MATRIX GIRL

after the lecture
you sauntered up
to the podium

killer
question to ask
regarding “The Matrix”

raising the question
if it is all just a shared
computer hallucination
as in
the absurd
conceit of this most
resonsnt of films

for insrance:
if this be
desert of the real
why should my brain
be ready-progrsmned
to read you
as object of beauty

what god-like
creator disguised you
as Aphrodite herseof?

or let Aphrodite
use your disguise to get
immortally close
to me?

no doubt in
those flashing eyes some
sex semiotic flirting with
the spin of every
tiny molecuke connecting,
dividing across
the short space between us

helping her to do what
sublime digital avatars
supteme
goddesses do

and
me cauhht in her ruse, trapped
by her beauty

popping red pill blue pill
eveey shade
of purple

needing to see with these eyes
speak with this mouth

touch with each
             and every real finger
for the first,
very first
        cataclysmuc
         no-nonsense time