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Back to Issue 3 - Fall/Spring 2013

Synthetic Love
Dylan Monmouth

The epileptic flashes of
green...red...blue...
haunt my dreams.  In between flashes,
her face becomes visible.  
She's selective, never on cue.
She shows up when she pleases, enticing,
but always distant.
green...red...blue...
Is there a mutual attraction or a mutual understanding?
Do we mutually understand that there is no attraction?
green...red...blue...
She's from my past, we were once friends
but in this virtual space, in this synthetic world
she has nothing to say, there are no traces
green...red...blue...
I long for an opening, a sign,
a signal, but it never comes
and she is consumed by the crowd
green...red...blue...
The moment's passed, but my unrequited gaze lingers
Tomorrow night will be different, 
It will all work out...it has to
That's what dreams are for
green...red...blue...