What did you say?
My mother asks me every day.
She tunes her hearing aids:
one millimeter up, half a one down,
a musician with a tuning fork.
Walking down the street,
I crank up the music, a conductor
of a concerto, a jam session,
or a pop refrain. Louder, louder—
notes flower in my ear buds.
What did you say? I ask
my mother almost every day.
Some would call it inattention,
but meaning blooms
between quietness and cadence.
A musician and conductor
meander through a field.
They press their ears to the ground.
