White Noise

My broken Casio plays the most beautiful static.

And when I listen, it almost sounds like rain.

The couple upstairs are all caught in a panic.

The miss can’t be quiet about her pain.

It’s been raining and raining, three weeks on end.

And when I wake up tomorrow, it’s rainy again.

So I’ve switched out the batt’ries, from the little thing,

Put them in the house phone, just to wish it rings.

To drown out the nonsense, the fighting, the quarrels,

Make sure I don’t spill it, she’s sleeping with Laurel—

The man down the street with the voice of a frog,

And a heart of fool’s gold, but a genuine smile;

Who hides by my doorway, complains of the slog,

Who waits at the corner, and eats up her wiles.

Still my phone sits in silence, as I watch it boil.

I wish I could play, so I wouldn’t toil,

But lessons aren’t cheap, and my hands’ve gone stiff,

And there’s no one to listen, no one to play with.

And the rain keeps on falling, drowns out my Casio.