I used to keep your messages on the answerphone.
Then sometimes, if I felt like it, I could hear your voice

though you weren’t speaking.

Give me something real, you once said.
Give me something I can take with me and keep.

I was so in love with you, it was a form of immersion.
I felt I never left you: even when I was alone,
you were with me, my mind floated in thoughts of you.
It was like God.

You were my horizon, my voice on the radio.
As I drove through the desert, I never moved.
You were a kind of stillness,
almost an enervation. You were so beautiful

I ran down time with you, used up all the clocks,
then threw them away
and nothing seemed to have changed,
you still lay beside me, beautiful as before,
beautiful as you will always be…

You were like a storm which never broke,
like rain which never falls,
and I loved you.

And then, somehow… there was a change in things…

You called me the other day. We talked for a while,
and gradually I grew distracted. Thinking of someone else,
I could hear your voice

but I wasn’t really listening.