listening

it's a day of listening.
the cab driver
with his radical world views.
the butcher
as he slices a few rib eyes
and wraps them,
expanding on his
take of love and death.
his hands and apron bloody.
the barista, with her
weather report
and knowledge of the amazon
jungles. the woe is
me diatribe of
the young that the world
is spinning too fast
towards an end.
the bartender. wiping his
clean cloth across the thick
polished bar.
pouring a gin and tonic,
talking wistfully about
remember when.
before the highway cut
the town in half. how the trolleys
ran. how people came in
here and talked, not
stared at their phones
or the television.
there' a part of you that wants
to join in,
but not today, today,
you take the time,
and listen.