Sterilized Sex

Hear me as if I were Sherlock’s Hound
barking at noises the uncertain wind brings
from the moors of this Era.

Customization, loath of the human body,
virtual worlds, brittle egos, robots,
and porn, all mixed in a pot
will produce a new sexual soup
in which all will be perfect.

Lovers will have no scent,
no encumbering hair,
will not laugh at the size
or colour of our pleasure parts;
every request will be satisfied.

And here I must remind you
that Holmes never had a pet
if we discount his faithful Watson.