scale & sound

Don't forget that when you sweep the kitchen

floor and your two mobile fingers on your broken

right hand are grasping the red, plastic broom in

an awkward way that displeases you, you do not

automatically have the right to audibly moan. Be

more tactful, even if you think and feel you are

alone. Honest displeasure is one thing but the sound

of moans, or worse, moans mistaken as groans leads

the listener(s) in a house full of listeners, listeners

you weren't fully aware were fully listening, to feel

your swelling throat and air-in-air vibrations and

translate those into a distinct impatience-- to them it

is insult and hyperbole; it is an affront to their own

peace and quiet; to the love of pure, unchallenged,

hypnotic contentment usually filling their ears. Instead,

go to the land of cotton and buy felty pads for the chairs.

Slide the chairs quietly. Pick up the fallen receipts with

your left index finger and thumb. Slow motion. Don't

chew ice while it's fully formed. Let the ice partially

melt. 48% melted. Then masticate in small molaristic,

cud-circular chews. Cupboard door ajar? Grab the

comforter from your bed, place on head, covered like

a considerate ghost you've known before. Crawl to

the pantry and gently yet gently, gently, gently, gently

push it shut with the top of your head, all the while

holding the bottom and easing it flush with the new-found

agility in your left hand. Politely lubricate everything:

harm and armpits, chaffing crotches, flossy teeth and

loud-tick watches. I'll make peace with you yet.