I cannot shake your hand because
I am in chains. The locked-down
bustle of my life has won. It has
taken me over : buses now ply
the byways where I once inscribed
the fly-leafs of books with my name.
Ex Libris was me for sure. Now I've
lost it all however, though I still
search everywhere for the likes
of you. My hammock has a
new fabric. We should try
it out together. Yes.
Me, with you.