try to distinguish the voices of children,
their excited mothers.
He came to think,
after 12 years and so much,
that all of the things he said
in moments of anger
would probably one day
make perfect sense.
Some days the love songs
on the radio are about absolutely
no one you know.
Somewhere, always banging drum.
Even conversation has timbre,
pitch and melody,
if you know how to listen.
Harmony and heartbreak.
Trying for one and tripping into
the other. Sometimes I think we are attracted to
the horror of the boredom of the
absence of life.
