distortion

D. W. Metz

i’m sorry it’s so frustrating
to communicate
it’s hard to hear you
over the poetry
bleeding from my ears
the voices trapped inside
the jazz of the street beneath
i watch you like a sitcom
queue canned laugh in 3. 2.
i can’t see the humor
but i chuckle
belated
at the thought
it’s not you it’s me
my mind
needs to be free

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