Silence
Silence
Saturday night
in a crowded bar,
up in the loft
a local band
gets in their live act practice –
Too loud, not too tight.
Who am I, a critic?
someone likes them…
At the end of the bar
a circle of friends
huddles in defense
against the noise,
shouting sweet nothings
into each others ears.
I know half the people,
yet I remain outside the circle,
distanced by age,
and shyness,
and the lack of anything meaningless to say.
One girl in the circle
gives up a weak, pathetic smile.
Stupid bitch,
you don’t even know my name,
you don’t know what I’m like,
yet you felt justified
in passing down your instant judgement.
Who am I, a critic?
Maybe the only smile you have
is a pathetic little smile.
I edge away a little further
from the ever tightening circle,
and the sound from the loft
overpowers everything,
and for the moment
I am safe
in my silence.
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