MIDNIGHT FLICKS OVER INTO TOMORROW

"Henry, Henry...?"
his wife's voice

getting shriller and
shriller

he
doesn't answer
her

can't answer her.

Midnight flicks over
into tomorrow

with a little green click
from fluorescent numbers.

It seems as if
she's in the next room.

A piece of solid
reality but

she's not
only a disembodied voice.

She's been a ghost now
these 20 years.

"Henry, Henry..!"
the parrot says again

so much her it seems
she has been reincarnated

Martha
as Polly.

The parrot growing old
with him.

Edith Piaf sings
on old shellac

"Sans amour on n'est rien du tout!"

The parrot joins in on
every "du tout."

"Coming dear..!" he smiles "...coming!"
the parrot scolds him when it  sees him
"So there you are!"