Zazzle
by Judie Gonsalves
It’s another endless silence
in the vacuousness between
front and back seat.
Despite the music on the radio
we hear nothing
(sounds have masks as well).
It’s 2 pm and these endless words
pulse between my temples
as I label all these feelings
(rendering emotional nomenclature).
And I watch you stare so sullenly at trees.
And I see you question the heavens
in the moisture that has blurred your pupils
(we’re all weeping willows).
And I sit strangled, again
by the hands of hush-hush.
I know so many words,
but they’re useless here
(if only my heart were a scrabble board).
And nothing feels like forever
under the unforgiving glare
of a digital clock.
The time suggests sternly
we should go on with our lives
separate
and frenzied
until our next placid rendezvous.
One day
(amidst the comfort of the branches and leaves,
amidst squirrels,
amidst the smoke that soothes our souls)
there will be a sound that breaks the reticence,
but it will be too late for you to respond.
Over the static of the radio
my heart will have erupted
(went pop like a luftballoon).
