It’s in the book the one you didn’t read
the title I emailed to you the time you
never replied all this time I’ve wanted to
tell you but now this sensation I’m stranded
on an island and you will never find the
bottle I set afloat the message within
I have no blame in my heart please understand
a little confusion a little memory loss a little
delusion such as did you ever exist I could
number you like a new star seen once in
the void but there are so many the book so
full of numbers but these are different times
when words go out like thoughts transmitted
from one continent to another we are gods we
fly we materialize or in your case not
the war is of course still raging the gates of the
citadel once impregnable await their wooden
horse the surprise that follows the gift
and those long voyages too the rocks the
temptations the sleep inducing plants the
beautiful women at the shoreline powdered in
sand taking their own photographs with their
iPhones you’ll soon be receiving one I’m
sure but I’ve stopped caring these are
different times like I say and the book now
is only an icon an image no signatures
no leaves and pages only slightly more than
figments covering our vulnerabilities was
there something you wanted? I still hear
your voice like it was yesterday but I
can’t assume anything anymore certainly where
you’re concerned I saw you once I felt
your pull your gravitational field your
magnetism perhaps I was mistaken some
configuration rising from the horizon like
heatwaves an illusion I gave a name now
I’m here holding your shell to my ear
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