My thing is not your thing;
your thing is not my thing.
Particulate things enclosed in force fields,
bouncing off each other and brick walls,
marbles flung from a sling shot.
Talking through string between tin
cans, graduating to Morse
code on flashes of light between
bedroom windows, semaphores,
made-up codes, rudimentary
encryption. Now everyone’s talk is coded.
The keys have gone missing:
an aphasic blare, tinnitus, signals
jammed and jamming, troughs
and valleys interleaving a dead zone.
Sound cannons thump the chest,
disarray innards with multi-channeled
mega-watted, THX’d, Dolby Digitaled
crowd control, and all because
my thing is not your thing;
your thing is not my thing.
Image from wikimedia commons.