Thinking Makes It So

Car doors slam shut,
Swallowing voices,
As though sound had dropped off the menu,
Blindsiding silence itself.
A motor revs like a trombone octet,
Tires crunch, and after the dogs stop barking
It’s just the birds again.
Perfecter Mondays don’t come around that often.
I think, you know,
Personally, thinking I have
Like something to think about
Kind of gets me to thinking:
If everybody had an ocean (Beach Boys lyric)
Then had a few drinks late at night
Played chess on their phone
And would just think about things
Nobody would be in my immediate face
All the time telling me what I must,
Telling me what is and what isn’t,
And here and here and here.

© 2020 Randy Stark

Please visit my website at and my page at Write Up The Road.