Postcards from Nowhere

You’ve become an abstraction

A picture

In an album

Words scrawled

On a page.

And I’ve become, what?

Prob’ly no more than a shade,

A memory of a past life,

Now miles out of reach.

An ocean does more than

Separates; it

Drowns.

Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes.

I sleep alone,

With a teddy bear

And a bad back.