Long Story Short
Long Story Short
it's the room over there whose
yellow walls and chrome framed
chairs keep ringing like
a phone no one will answer
somewhere the button is pushed
a door slowly obeys the
strong magnetic pull
and opens
someone calls me mister
from the yellow ringing room
and the door is swinging slowly back
a drop of silence slips
past the soft metallic click
through the walls the trees
the growing distance
in this hard geometric place
my life is a dot floating
without mass or dimension
a thought waiting
for the words to arrive
death is the cause of my rebirth
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