— th3 int3llig3nsi4

It’s not often i pick up the telephone to give anyone a call, i have mind to though, its not incontriveable.

Conceivably it is because i profess to be a non consummate conversationalist. My mind tends to saunter off at the oddest moments and i am oft at a loss of what to say. When conversation drifts and talk about Unicorns, Leprechauns and Rainbows run rampant, i learn that maybe you and i are experiencing the same quandary. I grew quite fond of the innocuous tone your voice takes as it flits over those words that only you can realise.

I do not mind a silence, not with you, a comfortable silence, on the line, that would last for a couple of minutes, or perhaps hours, when splayed on our couch, me engrossed in reading my book ‘AFRICA’, you hacking away on your precious laptop at a deadlined project, an occasional smile, your arm on my thigh, unconsciously caressing it like only you do, comforting. Insisting on talking to me till you fell asleep on the telephone, the couple of minutes of me listening to your calm easy breathing before i hung up with a smile on my face.

I would like to call you, ask you how you are doing, find out who you require peed on, ears spat in, or let you know that this stupid day has me in a headlock. But i can’t connect, no one can, you on your island, self imposed exile. Unfortunately by the time of finding yourself, hauling yourself over port-side, find that i weighed anchor a while ago and is currently just a memory and there will consequently be no restitution.

I would like you to call me; if only to let me know that you are all right, tell me all is well and that Unicorns are still asexual and that glimpse you perceived was but a twig or perhaps a pair of truffles.

| Kumekucha ^ Chizi feat. Wyre |