I was feeling much better
till the death of the letter
that was opened before your arrival
where the difference is shown
between the love that we have known
and the things that we do for survival

see the feathers fall
as I dial in the call
where the dream
is still seen to linger

like a deaf-mute
in a telephone booth
the bird sings
with it’s fingers

I wonder where you are tonight
and when you’re going to show
just like Orpheus
you know
I’m dying
to know

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