Now Beneath the Blare of My Reclusive Television
The thing again turns itself on
When I’m alone in the apartment,
So as to merely hear a human voice
While I am really busy elsewhere,
& the volume is almost muted.
Sometimes it’s reminiscing stories
About electric rivers, or the breath &
Circumference of one’s autobiography.
But from this remoteness of a perspective
It only stares back with stoic thoughts
Like an unnoticeable job interview. Soon,
I continue about my day’s trivia in a room,
With a window in a box, that contains dilemmas,
& Landscapes full of dreams.
—Stanley M. Noah, Dallas, TX