Televised

The television flickers in the corner of the room
Sometimes it feels as if we are still being watched
A slow spool of recording tape
Brown shoes
Green coats
Bags of surveillance
But that was a long time ago
Do you remember the bridge she asks
Of course little cricket
I was scarily alive then
She sighs
Rests her head upon my shoulder
Her hair falls about my face
It smells like coconut
Sweet and silky
You are a good friend Alice
I am not sure she hears
When I look up she is gone
On the screen are faces
Shrill sounds
An intrusion
I just like to sit still now the voices have gone
Perhaps one day they will return
Like old friends
For now they recede
I switch the television off
And the screen turns black.