Stream of consciousness like Proust
Endless inner conversations
But on the phone
….
Whatever picture or thought
From your mind or mine
There’s no middle line
…
Stream of consciousness like Joyce
Endless network of memories building up
Talking to myself or maybe you on the other line
…
Whatever lit memory in the head
From my tongue or yours
There’s only one discourse line
…
Ever flowing thoughts no punctuation marks
Endless conversations or thoughts
Sometimes even silenced but still the phone line plugged
