Addiction to the wire
by Gail
The telephone-lifeline beckons,
the sugar, the drug, the poison.
Just dial the code
and you get your hit,
the voice that whispered
to you in the dark cave,
the one you closed your eyes
to hear in your shuddering bones.
Now you're in the open,
on the glacier,
sharp light stabbing you;
he tore off your eyelids
with the rest of your skin.
He's finished now, closed your account,
won't return your calls, can't spend
the money you've got to offer,
got new addicts to supply.
But in the ear can be
as good as mainlining;
just ask Hamlet's father.
