Late one lovely, lovely night
just when the humid day is driven away
by the cooled sea air,
and one walks with no one in sight,
without a care, in empty streets...
I heard you shift then cough
on your stiff blue couch.
The screen's sound's rebound rebounds again
around your stare, not within.
Peering in from the city light
I caught a glimpse of you alone;
bored as mold, still like stone, empty as a cube.
You, who is locked in the glare of your set
which throws ideas for a game,
strained, strewn, strobed sights and sounds
of all we eye and ear
including the sea; the pop soup
dilutes and disregards our dignity.
Mendel C.