/Quarter Moon Night/ (GregSherman/PhiloVivero) <br />
 <br />
he set out into the digital wasteland <br />
in search of life, happiness, or meaning <br />
a lost soul hoping to find something <br />
or someone to save him from himself or t.v. <br />
the flickering screen before his sleepy eyes <br />
spread out like an ocean of fire <br />
the chair became his ship and he sailed out <br />
onto the ocean on a quarter-moon night <br />
 <br />
	the phone rang and she answered it-- "genesis' residence" <br />
	with a voice that told of eons of perfection and exactness <br />
	and a trace of hope for more than a quarter-moon's light <br />
	but she awoke alone, naked, shivering cold on a quarter-moon night <br />
 <br />
she arose from her bed, listening to the silence, <br />
straining for a comforting sound <br />
asking for it, "please! is there anyone out there?" <br />
praying for the ring of the phone... <br />
but only cars driving through puddles <br />
and the creaks of the house and flickering t.v. screen <br />
like a fire on the ocean -- she struggled <br />
to find out what it all could mean <br />
 <br />
	the phone rang and she picked it up and told her name <br />
	his voice on the line told of need spawned by years alone <br />
	and a trace of expectation for her to make it all right <br />
	but when he awoke... only a t.v. screen and quarter-moon night <br />
 <br />
he arose from his chair and went to the phone, <br />
fingers trembling upon the push-buttons <br />
the off-tune tones ringing in his ears as <br />
her beautiful voice answered his call <br />
"genesis' residence" -- and the burning feeling <br />
of the ocean's fire ran through him <br />
"i love you," he whispered and with a shiver <br />
he hung up the phone, but she knew him <br />
 <br />
	the phone rang and he picked it up -- "hello?" he whispered <br />
	her voice on the line surprised and scared him, but he desired <br />
	he longed to climb the mountains in her sky-blue eyes <br />
	and feel the life ebbing between her soft, brown thighs <br />
 <br />
they touched each other through the fog <br />
of the digital wasteland's electric lines <br />
they felt each others' fire on the burning ocean <br />
and then, for the first time... <br />
they held each other in a real embrace <br />
under the quarter-moon's blue shard <br />
no more praying for the ring of the phone <br />
or inattention of the digital guard-- <br />
 <br />
	the phone rings and i start awake from my dreaming state <br />
	and answer the phone, "sherman's residence" to an eery pause <br />
	then a digital voice selling pictures of quarter-moon nights <br />
	i sit tired and quiet in the silence and flickering t.v. light...  <br />
 <br />