“On the street, and even at the picture show
In the sweet music on my radio”
Transistor lyrics drift across a stage
set for a brief tale that passes.
A dark haired glance, half glimpsed through glass
separating worlds, a gulf, a chasm, between.
A drama of no significance,
a storyline without appeal.
Start. Stop.
In the space between the words
a universe of meaning
or so it seemed.