I wish I had a loud voice,
Then people would have no choice
But to listen to me. In a restaurant,
Around friends, I would get what I want.
My friends, and even those who run the restaurant
Would have no doubt.
I would be heard. And later, with her, alone,
I could reveal the truth: “I only shout
And boast to be heard. I chose
That voice for gain,” I could whisper.
And then she would take off her clothes…
But I don’t have a voice based on a plan.
I have the voice any man
Could listen to, or not.
I’m a working stiff who commutes.
I’m careful. There isn’t any plot!
A warning: this sad poem will quietly fade away.
Is that okay?
I’m not the man people need to see.
There’s nothing about me
Which rises above something marvelous
I might say in my poetry.
I even hold still in an emergency.
I’m the softest voice you ever heard,
As quiet as that solemn bird.