Entering the computer

through the keyboard,

we experience the ultimate

in zero gravity.

We could freefall forever,

smokers drifting down

through the dissolving parachutes

of their own smokerings,

burning up the keyboard

with our fingers.

Those bottomless zeros

are calling us,

drawing us toward the

one great One.

Or think of adventurers

chasing nothing,

ripples of zero

that, Lorelei-like,

lure them deeper and deeper

into a quest for Nirvana.

Outside the window,

the heavy moist snow nests on

the branches of the junipers,

bending them to point closer

to the earth,

and the songs of birds

try to outbid

the rustling of the hard drive.

This really isn't about you.

It's about me

and I have to go now.