The moon was unbearably high. flowering plant that hung from the radiator pipe. it was dripping sweat from its rapidly fading petals. and to the humming world in which I was living, a crescendoing stepping sound came in. heard you stepping over three weeks' worth of newspapers piled up outside the door. I hear you knocking. come in. turn on the radio. turn up the volume.
you sat down in the same place where you used to sit. it brought back a memory or two. I may not know much any more, but I remember you. you were quiet for a while, and that was nice. then you came along with your questions, always questions. I don't have any answers to those particular questions. I hear you talking. shut up! turn on the radio. turn up the volume.