1/21/12

make up

sometimes in bed
i make up sounds.
or not really make up
but reinvent.

cars passing out on the street
become waves on sand.
voices
are a drone of insects.
startled sirens
turn to birds and primates.
wind howling through skyscraper canyons
is only a breeze in the underbrush.

yes, invention may be a byproduct of lack.

but the world is still our world.
we still turn at the same speed.
and someone can still be thinking of you
reinventing sounds unheard.

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