Who does not love, even a little, the sound
of his own voice? When the browser times out

I must prove my humanity by solving
an equation: 10 + 8 or 2 + 7,

in order to continue reading or making
commentary on the latest drama

that the world’s delivered to our door.
I ponder the question a little more

and realize it isn’t that, really:
not the speaking or the writing

as a one way telephone, but that even
above the canceling din and pummeling

wind and rain, all my histories
might count for something.

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.