Conjuring - July 25 2024

 

Conjuring

July 25 2024

There is no such thing

as a disembodied voice.

And every morning

when the radio jolts me awake

I can see her plain as day,

my mind

conjuring up a human face

out of incidental sound.

Because the human mind

is made for that;

seeking out patterns,

filling in the blanks,

breathing life

into the inanimate.

So the billboard was a mistake;

two morning DJs

leaning into their mikes

and smiling for the camera.

The usual banter

flirty repartee,

but nothing at all

as I’d imagined her to be.

Never meet your heroes, they say,

because we all have feet of clay.

Yet I’d fallen for that voice,

and now, a spurned suitor

I was disillusioned

and falling out of love.

How much better it was

living in my head,

naively projecting my wants and needs

onto vibrations in the air.

As if she spoke only to me.

As if she could also see,

through the ether

and out through the speaker

sweetly back;

a forgiving gaze

despite my sleep-swollen eyes

and morning face

creased by the pillow.

And as if, through my fog of half awake

she was perfectly happy

to talk on my behalf.

How I see her in my mind’s eye,

morning coffee

across the table

in our cozy breakfast nook;

mine, black as usual,

and hers

with a teaspoon of sugar

and soupçon of milk.

Where she would read out loud

in the alluring voice

I knew so well.

While I sat

taking in every word;

a good listener

who is perfectly at ease

saying nothing in return.