a hilly valley of sound,
not quite up or down
but both, I think, one crack following another
that has it’s own sort of vain charm.
hoarse and high pitched at the same sound plateaus
nothing more than laughs and question marks
that edge at the air just for the sake of respect, without real sencerity
“I don’t know” seems to be you’re favorite line (what a pity).
I can clearly remember a conversation I heard on the bus
some uneducated minor
talking on the phone about how he was going to get drunk at the end of the day
and then, sadly, it made me think about how much that sounded like you.
“Tear apart all the words!”
The protesters make it clear of the human condition-
now I want to mangle your grammar and contort all your sentences
until they land right side up on my ears, clean and poetic, and then I will smile and say:
“son, NOW you’re making some sense”
but it doesn’t help a bit.
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry