my house is never really quiet
there is always the sound of traffic
or the knock of the
and the rattle of the windows
And that faucet…
that faucet
upstairs has a voice
like a casino waitress
a hiss really
before the water begins to drip

in the rare pause
when the air
is expectant
my mind
fills the void
really fills it
this is why I must spend
so much time alone
I am waiting
for my mind
to grow weary
like an exhausted child
hoping for the moment
when mind
and world
and house
are quiet
and I
the silence

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