It has been
a good long while since I’ve heard
the rattling
of pots and pans in my kitchen. A
stretch of
time has passed since someone has
asked me to
go shopping with them.
I can’t
remember the last time when good morn-
ings were
exchanged. When you live alone, you
get used to
moving about your place, ignoring
the sounds
you make in your own wake.
I have two
small dogs and I converse with them
now and
again, but generally they just cock their
heads
quizzically as if I’m blathering nonsense in
in some foreign
tongue.
Once in a
while they may pee on the floor quietly
when I’m not
looking. And across the carpet their
paws make
little inaudible whispers as they move
about.
The library
silence about my place is sometimes deaf-
ening. Books
on the shelf speak to me occasionally,
but still,
at times it’s as if no one is home at all. Shhh,
what was that?
Chris
Hanch 7-3-15
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