Ghosts in shadows
shadow ghosts
and I whisper stories through a straw
tangled nonsense
and you keep on turning
in multiples of nine
and I count your steps,
the number of rotations
What and how do hands
move so fast and are
you sure you didn't mean
to use a pattern because
the seams seem uneven
moving up these curvy roads
Why can nothing touch
the reflex under your right arm
that pushes you to numb
and tingling, but one man
can make one phone call
and millions are at war