Hold the Line 5/23/2011

I've left a copy of myself on the floor
the one that picks up the phone
that answers the door
a facsimile of me
in gray scale we all look the same

I'm picking up piece by piece
putting together the dots
holding on the other line
waiting for myself to come through
put back together

So frames keep running on
without me spliced into the film
A fake, a cardboard cutout
The smiling face gone without a trace

This copy by the door
the one that answers when it's called
can't pick up the phone anymore

I'm picking up piece by piece
editing myself together
holding the line
waiting for me to come through
put back together