Rubble

The dialogue between those two

was hard to describe
except to say
there was a lot of noise
that carried just a little signal
both intended and unintended
in a bed where each of them
waited cordially, aggressively,
for the next opportunity
to make some noise.
It reminded me of how 

I once was in a house

with walls made
of broken glass
set in rough concrete
so light came through
from outdoors.
From inside it looked
like this conversation sounded:
gems from a distance,
trash close up. I could not
leave that house soon enough,
though I longed and chafed
to be gone, just as

I could not get away

from that conversation.
Prisoner of the moment, I had to 
stay and hear it all, wondering
how it could go on and on
without one saying to the other,

let’s get out of here.  

Let’s not talk for a while. Let’s agree
to take this somewhere else.
Let’s agree to shut up and step outside
into unstained full sunlight
and see what it looks like from there.

By the way,

when I finally escaped
from that house, I found
that from the outside
it just looked like rubble.