Speaking to you from a photograph,
No longer body but idea,
I say these words
Without the twitch of a muscle.

As the August wind twined your hair
Into absurd weavings,
You heard emptiness echo.
You held emptiness instead of a hand.
You heard silence instead of your name.

As my train thundered toward a dream world,
I became an abstraction,
A solemn idea demanding a ceremonial tear.

I will wander blankly in a new place
Among blank faces, thinking of you.

As trees fly backwards at the speed of sleep,
I whisper that I love you,
But the train hears only its own roar.