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Poem

**For Ruben O, My little Bro**

(This poem was written and a recording made for the contest sponsored by Team Poetrysoup which was deleted before it was judged.  I wonder if this would have received a placement?)

Alarming, how analog clocks can tock back, 
sound-off each morning like those hungover barflies 
at the laundromat who dive-bomb 

buzzing dryers as bleached belles 
in heels attack threadbare tiles 
with a stomach-turning, M60 click clack, 

click clack. All night cafes fare 
no better, terrify with their red-eyed twit-ter-
to-woo owls, their jingle-jangle spoons.

Heartlessly, the freaky knock-knock joke 
of a barista smacks-down the expresso machine —
grounds for a massacre behind the counter.

The plink-plunk of rainfall deafens.
Birthdays send you into a panic.  Too risky,
the onslaught of jubilation,  the grenades that wait

in overblown balloons. New Year’s Eve brings histrionics.   
Nightmarish, the yellow chimeras of construction
and every screaming chick-a-dee-dee-dee...

Ear plugs are a given.  
Heaven is a soundproof room.
Even that plan holds more than a hiccup or two.

Horror resounds everywhere.  
Babies thunder by in hot-rod strollers. 
Frightening: the gurgles, giggles, ear-splitting rattles. 

In the nursing home, an awful rasp of life    
roars behind a tissue-thin curtain,
the horrendous lisp of oxygen, so deathly loud.

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