Desktop-lurking Icon,
an adoring pixel on each arm,
spies a window of opportunity. 
Shutting down attachments,
he navigates crowded wallpaper 
to taskbar, for a beer.

Baudy .GIF good-time girl, dressed
in two- bit colour proportional font
opens dialog box,
"Is that a cursor or are you just pleased to see me?"
Impressed by her operating system
they double click instantly.

Responding to primal command prompt
they take shortcut to spreadsheet
in embedded folder.
Downloading in mind,
within nanoseconds she's
logging on to his hard drive.

Text-wrapped, their margins merge;
headers and footers as one.
Application of love bytes
on her insertion point cause
flames to leap higher, column inches
to maximise.

General protection fault
causes virtual shutdown;
a hanging indent. 
Linking impossible.
Disgusted, she drags
and drops him.
 

Back In Touch

back in touch
but out of reach

we deftly avoid the cliche-trap. 
(to say I love you would be so passé.)
the journalistic idiom is efficient and safe
with nothing written between the lines.

your day? went well, kept busy.
buses were crowded as usual.
and you?  yes, fine thanks. winter's
on its way, don't you think?

our emails download, too bland
to form frost on the screen.
reportage guaranteed to tell all
and say nothing.

it won't be long until we sign -off
"yours faithfully"
but neither of us were, that's why

we're back in touch
but out of reach.
 

Early Skirmish 

Opening salvo whines past my ear 
from rear of breakfast bar. 
Enemy sniper dead ahead. 
Gain cover of open newspaper 
to avoid ack-ack-accusations. 

Enemy unleashes 
bacteriological weapons. 
Freshly squeezed Agent Orange. 
Cereal killer. 
Griller warfare. Happiness is 
a smoking bacon slice. 

Fires when she sees 
the whites of my eggs. 
Shrapnel wounds from exploded temper 
draw me out of the frying pan 
into the line of fire. 
Disarming hug ineffective. 

Pauses to reload 
a fresh clip in her voice, 
"You lousy rat a tat tat." 
I make tactical withdrawal upstairs, 
climb back in bunker. 
"Piss off.", 
my parting shot.