The Starbucks buzz and yammer crashes over thought
business and busyness is the trade of the marketplace
you and I work perhaps perpendicular, perhaps more
parallel, somewhat askew because we wash along in
the waves – sound waves, laughter, persuasion, cajole
– light waves, door opens, closes, colors entering –
thought is muffled and the child within me gets to work.
For an hour I seem to be deep in my book, which I am.
But also for an hour I scurry through the dark tunnels
as I catch and capture conversation that eddies, roils,
not comprehending, but actively inhaling what is not air.
The dangers I face, daredevil I, by refusing to muffle
with earbuds the steady roaring swells and breakers
of inanity, profundity, incredulity, and raw insanity
are made tame when weighed against the pure gold
of dialogue’s fodder – my next characters auditioning
for the big role yet to be imagined, to be written
This is when the creative process shows itself alive
baring teeth and rearing up in defiance on hind feet…
between the sterile silences.
dVerse: Poet’s Pub