All he needed was a name and
An address to deliver a diagnosis.
What I precipitated in a post-
Card to an Old sire address?
This was my measure, my warrant
Of time, to measure the sublime.
I still struggle to accept her
As the one the world will point.
It was her name on the card
That pinched time in a line terse.
The deed was done from an implicit
Fare, her Truth or Dare.
Mistaking her address from an old
Smudged cassette I found in sister’s
Here is the plate of streamofconscious
prosody I put to that card- lime: