The Ring

we spoke in the past
I declared my name something else
you didn’t reply

I find myself here
pen in hand
listening to the background noise
and thinking about you

you taught me the crypt
I wrote sonnets in it for you
with image maps
and embedded audio

maybe nothing is the same
I really just want to ask you a question
but under pressure I have absolutely no idea what it is

do you remember the soft glow of the midnight lights in the still summer air of a small town?

that kind of silence still speaks to me.