words flowing along the microwave stream
slightly out-of-phase signals converge
the present is immersed in future dreams
emotions seperated by analog ghosts
too soon the present becomes past
"i miss you" echoes long after the phone sits alone
only memories remain, to be treasured like old U2 albums
10,000 miles away sleeps my friend
under a bright morning unaware of the sun
or echoes refusing to die in my mind
thought becomes action and words assemble in sequence
still the simple phrase remains
refusing to be buried by artistic diversion
i am left where i began