sundescending
a voice crackles out
and sounds like outer space
distant, crackly, uncomprehending
voice complaining silently to the void
they didn't send up any vodka
and I realize it might be speaking to me.
a sly look around. nobody else reacts.
uh-oh. I weave my fingers together
and wait for the voice. come again? silently.
and it mutters again, something about
slippers and neighbor kids. Figures.
I never get the cool voices that speak
in Russian or tell me to burn things.
just these voices that are concerned with trivia,
their last meals, the lyrics to Rent.
parsely, sage, rosemary, and enough time
for even the fabulous lean dogs of the summer retreating
to pause and snuff, delighted, at the ground
baring itself under us. voices pass,
I am unconcerned, the ferry floats past
and I am reminded of the mornings when I slip
into the waiting water and swim quietly
to a destination only I know.
tell me another story.
this one's worn thin.
--11.10.00