Thursday, July 25, 2019

When It's Quiet



When it’s quiet,
and there’s nothing
stirring about,
the winds are calm,
the lake is glassy and flat,
the rustle of trees is hushed,
I can think.

Thinking is horrifying.
The mind whips up scenarios
so troubling, disturbing and
nightmarish that I long for
the cacophony of congestion,
voices other than my own and
the illusive grinding noise of city
life.

There’s a curious comfort in the
madness of noise.
For me.
A city boy.
Rural peacefulness is an uncomfortable
horror show of the worst imagined
possibilities.  Everything is coming
to get me, every bug, cricket and
mosquito. To murder me.

The noises of traffic, ambulances,
sirens, shouting, movement, rushing
about seems more like life to me than
the stillness of a lazy river slowly drifting
downhill, with critters croaking and ribbeting,
along the banks. Muddy, silence.
It gives me the heebie-Jeebies.

Purposeful noise means progress to me,
kinetic and energized, moving towards
some planned goal, some practical advancement,
some elusive accomplishment, giving me
comfort, and a baffling sense of pride.
Reaffirming that the world, for all its steel
and glass, cement and asphalt; is alive.

It must be Summer in the city.

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