White Noise Alex Foster Elegy By Jasen Sousa

White Noise

Alex Foster Elegy By Jasen Sousa

 

Drift asleep with the TV on.

White noise.  Actors and actresses recite

words that someone else wrote.  Wrinkles that form

on facial temples and creep toward the cornea are scientific evidence

that it hurts to watch.  Vibrations, humming, buzzing, and then

it shatters! A glass bottle filled

with the purest liquid mankind is capable of creating.

It freezes on the pavement during

a frigid January evening.

 

Drift asleep with the lights on.

White noise.  Navigate through midnight

canals on an unsteady raft dimly

lit by translucent rays that sneak through manhole covers.  Unfamiliar

friends stand on the outskirts of intelligence and imagination, snickering,

whispering directions to destinations

you do not wish to return to. 

 

Drift asleep with the internet on.

White noise.  Crowds watch you rest, listen

to you breathe and record the exact number

of seconds it takes for your chest to raise and lower. 

Take gossip off the walls, place it into a blender,

pour the truth into a spray paint can

and tag the world with the most flamboyant font

it has ever witnessed. 

 

Drift asleep with the radio on.

White noise.  Let the lyrics put

you in a peaceful rest, but before they do

make sure you memorize the verse

about the single rim attached to a rusty backboard

that you can hang on all day without ever coming down,

the verse about the thinker and philosopher that left behind quotes

and ideas that didn’t get the opportunity to take shape,

and finally, the verse about the artist that left an unfinished charcoal sketch

containing countless interpretations

of what it means to be free.