I Have Friends In A Box

I have friends in a box.

beneath a screen.

I think I have.

I tap on the blue blue glass

as if it were the sky 

summoning angels.

the things I say are kept by clouds;

don't drift away!

I have worlds under glass

awake when I'm asleep

long past the meridians

of what used to be
 called dreams;
 (or countries. 

my houses with no furniture.

drawers I can't open.

letters I'll never tie

with any green silk ribbon.

much at arms length

rich as a click away.

yet sometimes I wonder

if on a winter's day, alone at the bus stop

I suddenly decide to sing the way I used to:

will there still be clouds in the air?

mary angela douglas 5 december 2014