I typed H-E and paused by pressing the equal sign on the keyboard.
This was more than a blinking text cursor.
The other half was batting it’s eyelashes.
Was it flirting?
Flashing a lowercase L?
Or telling me I’m number one?
I pressed play by clicking the greater-than sign on the keyboard and proceeded to type A-R-T.
The word transformed into a picture of the word. It was a bigggggg heart. And I guess that’s what made the only thing move was the spinning beach ball, although, I wasn’t on the net.
The mouse was just eating out of my palm, but now I’m jerking it back and forth like some string cheese.
It came to as I bowed over the desk and the arrow shot straight for the heart but because the cursor is tilted it missed.
Now the cursor is a small hand L gesture. What?! How am I a loser? I’m not responsible for the arrow being slanted. Hell, I don’t even shoot my gun sideways. I’ll leave that to your modern-day Robin Hoods. I wouldn’t try to attack the bottom of the heart with my pointer even with the heart looking like a bottom, if I may point out. I may cum across as anal paying attention to de-tails like that but fuck it!
Again, why should I have to rest an L on my forehead when there is already an S curled up there? Who am I? Clark Kent at The Daily Planet. If I throw up L then I gotta throw another L up. Laughing like shit ‘cause that’s like the bat-signal for you-know-who to roll on over to my cubicle, batting her eyelashes like Barbara Gordon. Aight, you keep doing that and your lashes gone get stuck in your eye, gone be blind as a bat. Aight, enough clowning around, let’s show my computer love like I-T.
We caps-locked lips. She lifted her foot off the ground. “Damn, her leg looks like an L.” My S curl became erect. Still a little crooked though.
Now the cursor is the rewind button, which is the less-than sign, neighboring the number 3.
We tilt our heads to the right when we’re trying to understand something.
To the beat.
This is our song. Let us have the floor, please.