There's a busy street behind my house
I can't see it
the HOA built a wall just high enough so that we can pretend it's not there
but I can hear it
I've heard it every single day that I've lived here
as constant as the sunrise
the rumble of trucks hauling their precious cargo
the cry of sirens grieving over emergencies
the roar of motorcycles boasting about their horsepower
and the familiar din of engines just…
propelling people to work
radiating the steam of sweat
belting out songs in the key of stress
congregating errands into a concerto of…
vrooms
an auto-motopoeia
a perpetual auto-promenade between the lanes
painted on the pavement
that plays out a lot like… star-crossed lovers
moving to and fro in the rhythm
of the stop lights
when we were considering buying this place
we put “street noise” at the top of the “cons” column
like babe, I'm not sure if I can bear to hear that every day
but the property had a lot of “pros” too so we chose to just learn to deal with it
The noise is a lot less these days
those poor vrooms
disassociated by social distancing
they sound a lot more like lonesome solos than a symphony
I wake up every morning hoping I can still hear something
because if I don't
if the engines run dry
if the mufflers become exhausted
if the batteries die
and the tires retire from the tango
if the whooshes can no longer as much as whisper
if that street succumbs to silence
I'm not sure I can bear to hear what's next
