Conversations float like dandelion seeds
drifting on some tumble-weed breeze
the words are soft and out of focus
bouncing quietly off these walls

Invisible vibrations pass unnoticed
no effect, no eye turned, no ear piqued
was that my name, something I should recognise
or just another wave in the sea of endless ambience

I’m not here
I’m not here at all

I’m back at that table
our legs entwined below the cloth
I’m down on that station platform
my hands holding your face
I’m reclining on that sofa
our bodies charged with static arcing
your smile inches from mine

I’m not seeing
I’m not feeling
anything immediate
I’m not here
No, I’m not here 

I’m waiting for your call…

Peace unfolding its origami shapes back into sheets of drama
something hard is happening in this soft bubble
blue flashing lights and dull underwater sirens
someone is looking to grapple with my attention

My girl is somewhere in this scene and speaking sharply
questions pour as wine from the concern of her lips
was that my name or some phrase that should trigger me
another wave of spacious ambience washing over everything

I’m not here
I’m not here right now

I’m standing on the train
with your hand brushing mine
I’m sitting too close to you
our shoes discretely clunking
I’m at my desk watching you across the office
your body floating in that summer dress
and you’re shooting me that covert smile

I’m not seeing
I’m not feeling
anything around me
I’m not here
I’m not really here

I’m daydreaming of your seductive voice…

(March 2015)