Friday, April 4, 2014

B is for Traveling Companion

the stranger sings to the goddess
not knowing what else...
how else...
if ANYTHING else can work.

his intelligence is gone.
his witty repartee, dried up.
all he can muster is
"maybe you should dial 100 for customer service".

warm to the touch like heaven
and pleasant like the hidden coves on earth.
and he should tell her all this
but for nought.

so he plays the coldplay
he sings. softly.
maybe she'll like this; maybe she'll hear
it's all he can say...


tracy j h
03: April: 2k14

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