I only know that
you are my friend,
though there is
nothing to substantiate
even the thought of it.
You said it was the vibes,
intangible, these things.
Elusive, anorexic, even.
You could be right.
Being surefooted though,
it comes in handy
unless the devil Doubt
screws up the works.
Fraternité in cyberspace,
decided absence
of hands-on or
eyes open, even.
Using precision
in my perception,
I count the ones
whose vibes are foetid,
not on my fingers
but on toes that have
been long-term residents
of man made runners.
But I can always tell
the rotten from the rest.
It is a sense, de novo,
and does require faith
for activation
of the account.
It is pure luck
to have this talent.
It helps me shudder
when fielding
cyberkisses.
.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem