White Noise
He’s ambling toward me and his lips move
I pick up my pace, the distance to remove
Moving ever closer, still can’t hear his voice
So much seems distorted in a world of white noise
Bikers trek loudly o’er the pebble-filled road
And the sounds of nature are on overload
Energetic squirrels rustle through tree limbs
Mother duck spreads wings, splashes as she swims
Even the watch on my wrist ticks faintly
Its old smiling face staring back so quaintly
Now he is no more than ten feet away
But the words he utters -- still awash in gray
His message eludes me, though I long to hear
Why is it his words do not reach my ears
Face to face, but the barrier still solid
My pulse quickens and my skin turns pallid
Could it be I hear only what cannot hurt
Above words of rejection, painful and curt
As he moves away, I sense the farewell
But still the mere notion I try to dispel
Absorbing instead the more welcome white noise
That penetrates my brain by my own choice
*For Constance's Contest: "Hearing"
"...for a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest." From "The Boxer"
by Simon and Garfunkel.
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