lone listener


seated as i am

i can hear

the delicate surface

of two opposing worlds

gently being punctured

like teasing pudding with a spoon

bounce, bounce



before the fragile goo

comes undone.

two opposing worlds, each hanging from splendid silver at my earlobe.

i wear each world on the side of my face

for i can hear

and sense

them both

but i cannot



a bird sings my first name

from atop a wonderful willow tree

and a curious car

crunches my last

between its wheels and the gravel road

two vastly different callings; two vastly different paths.

a smile descends from the sun

and lands on my lips.

two compelling worlds of sound

but i’ll be just fine

dancing to the drum

of this third world of mine.


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