Some sounds once they enter your brain they never leave.
Perfume, “Baby Cruising Love” (2008)
How little we know,
and when we know it!
We close in on ourselves,
then yelp that the world is awry.
We had macaroni for lunch every day
except Sunday, when a small quail was induced
to be served to us. Why do I tell you these things?
You are not even here.
—John Ashbery, miscellaneous fragments (“Like A Sentence,” “Tahiti Trot,” “This Room”)