Listening Party

Listening Party

So often, we see what we think
cannot be seen: rain before
water as clouds and bird chatter,
a neighbor across the street
whose life continues when she
enters her home. Through her
living room, sliced by a window,
you see her lift a mug to her mouth,
reach over the computer screen
to turn it on.

Where does proof come from.

How does the mind decide,
imperceptibly, that we see
what we see, and what we
see is happening.

When a new album is released
(released, we say, like prisoners, or hounds)
your friend hosts a listening party.

We both show up,
and your neighbor, and your neighbor’s neighbor,
and strangers who are your friends.
We crowd round the speaker
like it’s a fireplace.