been here long? I suspect so, you don't hear me, you're lost
inside some hidden cloud over a lake of your own devising, listening
over and over to your scratchy poppy long-ago music. you
answered when I spoke to you, but your response was automatic.
are you afraid to speak, to process, to decide? soon you will
have to exist once more, to step back outside that vapor
you hide within.
were you in such danger of exposure that you feel you have
the right to remove whatever it is that makes you thrive, that
inspires you to play those enticing songs on your CD player, the ones
most of us don't know? should it matter if we don't listen, if the people
you work with forgot or never learned or don't care about "My Blue Heaven"?
and indeed there will be time to write