The staccato rhythm
of the broken typewriter
echoes throughout the rooms
and disappears outside in the streets.
Gradually increasing the size
of the paper heap
beside him in the trashcan,
the young man finds himself
no closer to solving earthly mysteries
than he was this time last year.
Giving up on silence,
glaring at the noisy cat
which meowed its way
into the room a while ago,
he again hears words inside
his near-frustrated mind.
Somehow, though, paper
just doesn’t seem
to capture the effect.
