Do I listen?
Oh, it is rude to listen.
To something that is not mine.

One's voice is as sleek as platinum
The other is my father's
Refreshing as lemons and limes.

Catching wisps of it
Their words are quite curious
About coffee shops and dinosaurs.

Sometimes it's not really
Worth listening to
The subject is too unknown and too far.

I imagine where they might be sitting
Surely not outside our black gate.
It is too hot for anyone to be outdoors…

So they must be on the grey garage
Sitting on the bamboo chairs
Or standing on the floor

Anyway, my thoughts
Drown out their words
My eyes flicker around the computer screen

My sister talks too loud
I reach for the white earphones atop my desk
Play Owl City's 'Metropolis', which I must say sounds serene.