New Poem: Baffles

Tap, tap, tap. Is this thing on? Been a few weeks. That last post, and the admittedly subdued response to it (lost a newish friend IRL over it, her loss, not mine) took a lot out of me. Nobody ever wants to listen to others’ experiences. I try, I’m not perfect, but I try. I want to do even better and while I deserve no cookies, as the kids say, for that, it makes me sad that it seems even trying is beyond most folks. Maybe I’m wrong, but listening to people I am not noticing a lot of listening going on. Hence this poem.


Murmurs fumble
down the wide corridor
echoing erratically
tripping over one another
a sort of natural cryptography
obscuring the gist

Would that I were
a better analyst
capable of determining
how relevant overlapping lives are
from such small distances
so close but no key to communicate

Rusty stenography fails
so all that we are left with
is our imaginations run wild
whatever can they be saying
whatever can they be thinking
whatever can they be doing


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