A lovesick cyberswain pours out his heart's refrain

April 21, 1996|By Peter A. Jay

My sweetheart's name is Ms. Claudette.

I met her on the Internet.

Although I've yet to see her face,

Our souls have touched in cyberspace.

From our keyboards, through the wires,

We stoke each other's inner fires.

Ours is a modern True Romance.

When we log on, electrons dance.

She's at work, I in my house.

I use a joystick, she a mouse.

Between us love flows smooth and creamy.

We make the info highway steamy.

She's exquisitely, freshly female.

Sometimes she sends me spicy e-mail.

I save it on a floppy disk.

(Oh, do not frown and say ''tsk, tsk.'')

Now that Claudette's my One and Only,

Although alone, I'm never lonely.

I'm happy as I've ever been,

With her upon my laptop's screen.

She gives me virtual delights.

I'd like to give her megabytes,

Then ask her home to meet my Mom,

And see my brand-new CD-ROM.

I think my nerdy knowledge wows her.

She envies me my Netscape browser.

''Come and see it then,'' said I.

''Not yet,'' she said, which shows she's shy.

And how then did I find my pretty?

With software bought at Circuit City,

Four megs of RAM, or maybe eight,

And, of course, the help of fate.

The 14th day of this past Feb.,

While surfing on the World Wide Web,

I went In Search Of this and that,

And tried a door marked ''Private Chat.''

I clicked upon an odd design,

An icon like a Valentine.

On my screen, the door swung wide.

Claudette was waiting there inside.

I heard a coo, much like a dove,

And just like that we fell in love.

(There was one thing which slightly jarred.

She asked me for a credit card.)

Now bills arrive. I pay. One must,

Because the 'Net is built on trust.

And Claudette's still a source of bliss,

At seven bucks per cyberkiss.

My worldly friends have warned of fraud.

They say Claudette could be, well, Claude,

And I the victim of a gag.

1% I hope not. That would be a drag.

Pub Date: 4/21/96

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