506

This place is loud. So somewhere louder take

me. There I’ll not be listening to this.

I’ll drown in sound until the silence wake

me, then I won’t, mine or these voices, miss.

Here’s newsfeed—yes, this is quite loud enough,

I can’t hear anything through megaphones;

and headlines bold and colorful will slough

my baseline never-ending overtones.

I’m getting drunk now. How I love that slack

of muted thoughts’ delirium that comes

from handing thinking’s autonomy back

to someone else; and now—how calm—it hums.

It hums. It’s quiet now. The engine turns,

but, thank all things, no thought within it churns.