i smell what's cooking

it's a mumbled response.
I hear it.
I write it down.
make a note of it.
there is static
on the line.
morse code is clicked
across the wire.
there are words
written in the sky.
I see
the headlines
on the front page.
I see what's written
in the sand.
I smell what's cooking,
but still,
still, I resist and
refuse to understand.