Interference

you could tell he was a real farmer,
he had a dog
and a patterned carpet.
that's one way of knowing
i thought, bewildered by
the arrogance of youth.
(though there was never
one so arrogant as I)
and we laughed, the way
you do, relating the little
details of the day
if you're lucky enough

And all the time, there's a part of me
that's looking on
and watching, seeing the absurdities,
the anomalies, the cracks that
show
all is not so good as it may seem.
Hearing the backlog of history
as white noise in the
background of our lives.
Interference, that's what it is,
and i can't
switch it off.