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Patrick Marshall

I Invite you to Stumble

Sometime, when you say, enough,
to the noisy hum of everyday
stuff, the finicky Fern, blinking Neon signs,
and all the other things posing as life
yet inert,
listen to your own hushed
and frantic self trying to survive.
What you find may be a puzzle,
licking, itching for a nuzzle
of your ear,
just what exactly would you hear?
Would you taste the fumes of discontent
as you smelled the glue and sealed the rent,
or feel the colors of a rainbow bending
toward some hidden pot o' gold?
Could you ever be so bold?
What story does your quiet hold
when your life though bought,
has never sold?