the moon was unbearably high.
flowering plant that hung from the radiator pipe.
it was dripping sweat from its rapidly fading petals.
and to the humming world in which I was living,
a crescendoing stepping sound came in.
heard you stepping over three weeks' worth of newspapers
piled up outside the door.
I hear you knocking.
come in.
turn on the radio.
turn up the volume.
you sat down in the same place where you used to sit.
it brought back a memory or two.
I may not know much any more, but I remember you.
you were quiet for a while, and that was nice.
then you came along with your questions,
always questions.
I don't have any answers to those particular questions.
I hear you talking.
shut up!
turn on the radio.
turn up the volume.
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