Loud music, not yours

Quick! The sun's going down 

at 5:04 p.m. this very day!

Turn the porch light on

for our return.

Noise

Solitude unchosen, the drone of it rising to a buzz. That poet

you hate, his dead tune on a bad instrument. Hungover, the

terrible fork glancing the excruciating plate and--that same

morning--the frisson of corduroy, your own, as you walk.

Loud music, not yours; somebody else's good time. the or-

atory of an enemy. The cacophony of someone asking for 

love. Another remark after the argument's been conceded, or

the story's over. Your stupid, habitual politeness when the

telemarketer calls. The restrained ha-ha when only a belly

laugh will honor the moment. Any complaint, even the gen-

tlest, from a person incapable of praise. Someone you know

you'll not see again---the dull click of an unslammed door.

Stephen Dunn

Riffs and Reciprocities; prose poems, Stephen Dunn,

W. W. Norton, 1998, page 61.


These poems are paired on facing pages. 
The companion of this one is titled Music. 
 It would be fun to start to work in pairs like this, another task. 
Some of his other pairings: Bedroom/Kitchen,
Money/Indulgence, Reflection/Shadow.

There arre many more types of pairings 

than just opposites; 

one could make almost anything work. . . 

 jhh