I Listen to the Symphony with a Dry Mouth

A cool breeze blows to conduct. Commuters take their places. The stadium rings like a percussion rehearsal – an ensemble of scaffold and pneumatics. Machines beat steel-joists to drive the city’s drums. Down the narrow steps a winding melody and the crackle of feet. I listen to the symphony with a dry mouth. The pavement is scored with chewing gum. Dynamics are marked in dog-turd and sick. Bus engines sing harmony with the slab cutter’s scream. Sounds are wired up to the lights. Drains blow like tubas, drivers shout and personal stereos keep time. The buildings juice each sound into a rich pigment. Shop signs bow to the applause of night rain.

– Benjamin F  Jones

About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
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4 Responses to I Listen to the Symphony with a Dry Mouth

  1. Phil Canon says:

    Wonderful, clever …

  2. Brighton is looking a bit like that these days. Used to be a clean, pleasant place until it was designated City status. It’s not my kind of symphony, but very well described by the master of words 🙂 Prefer the fields, woodlands, and hills.

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