the old man goes to what
for the night
acts as his local diner, NoHo.

he causes a ruckus.
the surveillance lights
flash on.

he doesn’t notice this since
he’s too busy conversing
with himself.

all the others trade glares
these days, i guess,
passive aggression is strength.

-

she lays the baby plastic tray
on my table—the waitress
we briefly switch formalities

and she leaves
and he turns to me
and says

oh.
i would’ve said hello,
had i known.
though,
i thought i won't; assumed you’d glued
your earlobes’ holes with those phones,
like them all.

he looked away
to continue the interaction
i had so rudely interrupted.

and that's when epiphany crashed in
as i reached for the white strangers
i let sing and speak to me so often:

whose sanity are we to question
when it’s not he
who voluntarily hears voices,
but who speaks to himself
because our need for humanity
is involuntary.

-end