by Richard Vince

Background noise moves
Into the foreground;
My eyes look too far
Into the distance.
I remain a mystery
To myself: too quiet
To hear, too close to see.

One in three carries
Across the room, carries
The conversation.
The end of the day
Is just beginning.

Cosy lighting creates
A crush velvet lab coat;
The reality is more prosaic,
But no less distinctive.

Even with ears covered
To keep in the quiet,
They are stubbornly
Merely words.
Why won’t they make sense?

Together alone is not
The same as alone together.
Two feet apart may as well
Be two miles, two years;
The only overlap is
The barely perceptible
Sound of breathing.

As a stream in the island,
I leave, moving gradually,
Inevitably through
Static surroundings,
Unknown, unnoticed,
Unseeing once again.


Posted on 01/07/2020
Copyright © 2020 Richard Vince

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