Listen to me.
I jogged onto Main Street, into the chaos of ordinary life and away from the silent, empty suburbs. A yellow taxi blared its horn.
Listen to me.
I hummed a tune. Its name, its lyrics, its notes didn’t matter; all that mattered was the vibration in my throat and jawbone and ears. Some friends waved me over to where they sat outside a café, and I joined their circle. I swished tea through my teeth, laughed at clever jokes, and talked about nothing for upwards of an hour. A pigeon landed on the next table over and cooed at me.
Stop talking and listen to me.
A friend burped, and in the resulting bout of laughter and apologies, the pigeon fluttered away through the golden evening air.
Taking my leave, I wandered down the street again until I reached the movie theater. One ticket to an adventure—plenty of guns, a car chase or two, people shouting. Surround sound at top volume.
Listen to me!
After the movie, I went on to a rock concert; hundreds of people screaming and dancing while the band pounded out its rhythms on the stage. I got close to the speakers, so I could feel the music, literally, running through me, the bass line shaking my bones.
Listen to me, goddamnit.
I spent the night in a subway tunnel, with my ear pressed against the ground, hearing the trains as they rumble past.
Will you fuckin' listen to me?
In the morning, I went and found some roadworks. I stood five feet behind the guy with the pneumatic drill, watching as he cut out big slabs of tarmac, feeling the machine's pulsing in the soles of my feet.
Listen to me, jerkwad! You keep this up, you'll be stone deaf before you're thirty. I'm an ear specialist, for God's sake. I know what I'm talking about. LISTEN TO ME!
Opening: _*Rachel*_.....Continuation: Steve Wright