The song of the world is the sound of one earbud in instead of both

The honking,

The wheels, 

The radios from open windows,

But on this highway the only sound my ears grasp

Is the sound of my music

And the world is simply a distant echo,

But I can feel her silence

Rushing, breathing, thriving 

Knocking, trying to find a way in

Thrashing and moving left, right, side to side, and forward

 

Forward 

She’s always moving forward

 

But I’m not

Instead, I am listening to the quiet strumming of a guitar 

Without the discord and static of her voice

I am not moving forward

I am not here

I am there

There with my music, and nothing else

There is where the sound is clean

Clean of impurities 

Clean of the grinding of wheels against asphalt and concrete

Clean of the angry voices from drivers rushing to get from destination to destination

My music is the sound of both earbuds in instead of one

 

But her

The world is clawing her way through

Freeing herself from the grip of her shackles

She’s here

Whispering something in my ear

And her symphony erupts 

Flowing and coursing its way through my arms to my toes to my fingers

Her sharps and flats twirling around me like ribbon dancers

Her hair a tangled, beautiful mess of music and dance and discourse 

 

And I’m here

 

And my music becomes the honking, the radios, the wheels on asphalt, 

The sound of pressing down the gas pedal and always moving forward

My music is enveloped in the world’s caress- intertwined, heavenly, chaotic,

And unclean

 

And here I sit

 

One earbud in,

And one out

 

I can hear her

 

Can you?