cacophony

Many think nails on a chalk board is the worst sound-

But it's not.

The worst sound is suddenly hushed tones

from across the room, sideways glances.

The same kind of eyes when the waiters sing

cause it's your birthday or your phone rings

just before the movie's start. The stares of

disdain for your existence. It's quiet. So quiet,

Your ears can hear words but your brain doesn't 

understand them, the hairs on your arm stand

at attention, and muscles in the neck stone dead stiff.

Some a think record skipping's the second worst sound-

But it's not.

The second worst sound is when those hushed tones detour to laughs, comraderie without you,

but because of you. It's swift and jarring, 

a car leaping from the mountain road.

It's not the laughs but the stark contrast.

It's heavy boots at the door when home alone or

afternoon sun burning your eyes after a dark

movie theater, the sudden recognition of the crowd

you've sat with for two hours but don't know and

will never know because at best it was a transaction; 

at worse a theft of soul. The time, the confidence,

the trust you gave and never got back.