Wednesday, December 7, 2011

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
Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes.
I sleep alone,
With a teddy bear
And a bad back. 

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