sounds: she said, it’s like perfect pitch: musicians can place all noise, door slam, footstep, on the musical scale, it’s just wavelength so, everything they hear a note.  a poet like that can hear all things, all noise, as words, as thought, place them in notation on a page.  we were on the porch and lightning, then thunder, behind her, and I remembered how if you count the time between flash and rumble (the impatience of light with sound) you can measure the distance away.  I thought: I can measure the time between this thought now in her face, and how long before she says it, and know how far away from me she is.