A Different Kind of Voice
Jacob
hangs out with
me every week.
We go to the mall
and sit down
and eat some pizza
After, we walk around
the mall admiring
the lights of signs,
murmurs of people
their footsteps echoing
into ripple waves
among us as we
collect ourselves
into our own minds.
And I talk and I talk
as more and more
minutes pass by the clock:
friends and family and classes
and work and even that
jerk who sits behind me in lecture
Jacob listens to it all, never
saying anything back, just
listening, absorbing each
word like dew seeping
into dark, rich soil;
for tomorrow, I know,
he’ll email me his
crafted response
to all my words,
but for right now,
we keep walking.
I finish my talk,
let silence hold
the air and
smile.