By 
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 day 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
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 pavement
that plays out a lot like
starcrossed lovers
moving to and fro in the rhythm
of the stoplights
when we were considering buying this place
we listed “street noise” at the top of the “con” 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 learn to deal with it
–
the noise is 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 if I can bear to hear what’s next
