Places Where It’s Never Quiet

I.

The city, with her sirens and laughter and music and screaming

(we met there, in the center of the beautiful noise)

II.

The seashore, waves beating their ceaseless rhythms

(we sat, toes in the sand, and talked until the moon ceded reluctantly to dawn’s birth)

III.

Mountains, bathed in birdsong and caressed by fierce and tender winds

(you told me you loved me for the first time on a peak)

IV.

My old apartment, the TV providing an endless backdrop of sound to dull the sharpness of the silence

(you never liked it, called it an “inane cacophony”)

V.

My head, inundated with fears and a devil on my shoulder named What If who whispers worries, old and new, into being

(you laughed when I shared them with you)

VI.

Your car, tense silence intermittently shattered by you yelling

(at me; you said I was flirting with the waiter)

VII.

The hospital, with the jarring and discordant music of beeping machines punctuated by murmurs and weeping

(the first time you put me in one, you donated some tears to the worthy cause of Saving Your Own Skin)

VIII.

The train, sniffles and hums of humanity audibly superimposed on the backdrop of screeching metal

(you told me I should save myself the trouble and jump in front of the 10:25 to Marylebone)

IX. The courtroom, demanding voices clamoring and yes, sometimes a gavel

(my own voice, miraculously clear and steady, testified against you there)

X.

My home, full of laughter, crying, music and love

(my husband laughs the loudest. he has never once raised his voice at me or the kids)