Nicholas Alexander

On Line

The bits are flying into the furnace
The bright sparks float in the air
And briefly incandescent
Before they depart the desk top world
and hide on the hard disk until December

The phone line is free
The computer is being fed without it
and the lines on his face are becoming
less pronounced
each minute a megabyte
flys past

The world that was once out there
is now in here. Safe and registered.
Locked behind walls of flame.