He listens to music,
to mask the rhythm
of his loneliness.
When he drives to work,
he turns on the radio loud
to dispel the pervading
anxiety beside him
and in the back seat.
He never goes to concerts,
because the music
demands to be heard.
When someone asks him
who his favorite singer is,
he responds: The Beatles
or ABBA, and quickly
changes the subject.
He goes to sleep
to the sound of
easy listening radio.
What would he do,
without music?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem