Humming birds circle feed. Sweat glistens the brow. Hand a tremble, an old man's voice cracks like a schoolboy's. A girl in red, tattooed and pierced, reads fire between her legs, a passion for learning as if it's by heart. A man whispers white trash, then relieves himself in a dozen public couplets.
Cadets chuckle the backdrop.
You wait for a clearing in the sound. You think you could inhabit all these voices all at once, move inside them like babies about to be born. You are up to read. The eye quivers, breath starts. The room takes on a new night chill.