In this dream she has a neon pink electric guitar and
Floats away backward into the dark;
The cord, the cable, the tether grows longer.
Neon dims, her figure wanes, not disappeared but smaller.
She strums but the tune is merely a name washed
Loud from my mouth.

Sound waves break; they chase after, float farther.
The name, once melody, rings hollow, ebbs silent.
Neon blinks out and I forget who I'm calling.
The memory, the tether, the cord at its longest
Goes slack; unplugged and lonesome, twists and drifts back;
Recoils from ink-black, starless, quiet.