Seal off noise pollution except for what's yours,keep it to yourself.
Put a barrier to those soundwaves, souvenir records.
Let's make a toast to the
antique love songs
that weep of violins and make flowers wilt and bloom.
Like a well-done summer, soft and tender,
where days tread on
with gorgeous L.A. heat, and the bitterness soon.
Like the best sort of jail with isolation,
nothing but sounds to wake up the soul.
Stuck with the thoughts that run across time,
jumping through time's hoops
and catching memories in baskets. Plant them in the soil,
water them daily. Tend to that which you created.
