When your thoughts stroll out to meet your tongue
there will be words
selfish in their strut
salivating in its sound
satisfying in your speech
of travelling, ritualistic tones.
Ring. Ring. Ri…
It’s you flying out of my imagination
to be real and unforgiving
like the memory of us.
I say to myself – his words do not speak to hurt you.
But they give noise to the electronic wind to make you