Engaged.

Tune out your ears let them hear not
the self satisfied ring of the telephone;
don't consider the dexterity of the
pressing fingers; her pressing tone
the sex in her voice, the moan
of distance creating distinction
between you
and her on the other end of the line,
the line stretching only as far as I,
Dividing you, cancelling out
numbers,

pressing reciever to ear, tongue to lips.

5000 miles away, she purrs
as though she were here
on you, lobster to body.
As though she was the coil of the wire;
tangled in your fist.

As though she was the mouth piece
crudely accepting your orders.
As though the numbers
gasped at her stroking fingers on them...

aha

my love it's a
wrong, wrong
number.

To Err (For Nicky)

She lies between compressed
blossom;
pink satin crushed to powder
spreading, across her like butter
like the words, she remembers
I remember but I stutter
when it comes to the stating them;
they fall off the branches, dance with the wind
and then I lose them, again, again
again.