These times are musical
Digital packages sent
Into ears over wires
Not through the air.

What's shared is understanding
Not waves of sound,
Those target brain
But don't surround.

iPod, therefore
I'm alone.

"Storm clouds may gather
And stars may collide,
But I will love you
Until the end of time."

No one wants that
Swirled over them in public
But to hear it makes me say . . . yes
And wonder . . . What is love?

The reply rings
Like hammers hitting strings
Percussion bouncing
Clear and bright

Behind a question
Never meant to be answered
With the emptiness
Of words