Return to Letting the Cables Sleep (poetry)

Big, beady chair, cigar dragging its feet
Scrawled out, she said...no way you're going first
So this is what it would've felt like
"Operator - 2939 Claibourne,
Too late, but you should probably show up anyway" - *button*
He couldn't smell the blood anymore,
He could still hear the shower

Ponderous.

, So I sit,
And smoke,

Existing:


Non-Existing: