My My

My silver screen full of your shadows
my touching merely the touch of keys
my plastic locket unfolded carefully
my light blinked under the grey Atlantic
my secret Morse tapped to Baltimore
my replies mixed with breakfast & porn
my language falling silently a continent away
my words burning black on the white shore
my cheap aftershave is drifting inside your room
my sea shell is listening to you blow me blue
my chalk dust pressed under your loose strings
my Mingus still calm before the storm.


John G.Hall(c)2003