How churlish, a coward without contact,
was respect not remedied in your youth?
No flower gardens promised in your partaking,
but the demoralisation you did inflict in parting.
Did my signals, somehow bypass a channel,
perhaps auto tuning not played for listening pleasure?
Robot controlled synchros, simulating objectivity,
acceding sans ardency as if common practice.
Oh covetable libertine,content in uncurbed acts,
should this amorist admire your jilting ways?
Your drums pound not my passions paroxysmal in denial,
for I would not lend you my Sundays forever more.
This poem can be read on poetry.com –http://poetry.com/poems/245183