Walking with a Voice

by Tony Kitt

There was a man who went into the newspaper rain
and listened hard. Nothing but splinters
of a zealous xylophone. He slept
under the whiskey–coloured sky. He ended up
around the corner of the phone signal.
A life later
a sprout answered the call.

There was another man who wandered outside
his blueprint. He approached the custodians
of open spaces, with television eyes
and fig–leaf bodies. They said, Every person
is a projection; books travel from mind to mind.
Show us your trust transplant.
His thoughts expanded as they were heated.

There was a woman with a black and white face
pausing among blots of colour. She tried
to tell time on a handless clock. She bought
a left–over ticket to travel
in the right direction. At the crush hour,
she boarded a train bound for
Nowheretobefound.

When you walk with a voice, you
hear stories.