The Gap

Distracted, ears filled
with gossip, with chattering
laughter, hissing pots,
baroque music.

This chair's too hard.

My small table's streaked
and sticky,
twisting veins
of old, spilled
coffee.

I seek silence.

Where else to find it
but here,
under this too-
bright spot-
light?

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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