You were never careful enough
With the child called me
I held onto calls from foreign phone booths in the rain
The sound of voices surrounding you
In countries I had never seen.

I've had enough of candlelight
Shrines and footpaths and
Pieces of cathedrals in tissue paper

When did you become
A handful of brittle stamps
The sound of paper tearing
When did I become
A street number
A warm zip code