Dream-ruptures

You wore black
I wore white
I couldn't resist the dinner invitation -
Isn't this how we are supposed to fall back into Memory?
 
We walk, the unspent winter
Jingling in our pockets.
We stop to contemplate a parched, old fountain,
Vacant signs of a bird. 

Loosely I decline
One invitation after another.

Why are you back? And gone again? 
I am sorry but your absence,
Amongst all this death,
Goes unsuspected.

The news of your return
Grazes me.
It takes an endless night 
For your voice
To reach me through the microphone slot.

Why? Why would the sunken faces reappear?
They better not, I think.
And who would dally with such invitations?

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