Date in winter, a
Sobre
The Phone CallTheir tombstones are as commonas pavement slabs up town,so how could I be that solemnseeing another put down?Time too winnows me thinand shakes me away ? yes every atomflies through the sieve of my skin ?skin which will stretch to oblivion.Ah, but surprise! I was flesh and boneand why I lived ? you never said,yet your voice (like over the phone)is this incantation to raise the dead.
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