Piece of quiet

Recluse, recover

Head on pillow, tucked in, begin to think peace and quiet-

Meanwhile

A riot swings a racquet the tighter my eyes try not to see

so many sounds blanket as epiphanies.

Snuggly, cotton covers partially, crinkling fibrous shifts-

sounded, a trumpet climbs up the scales, ring in speakeasy tones

two doors down from this bed, this horizontal head.

A boxer dog boofs over the fence, again and again,

the microwave chimes in.

My son strategizes and vocalizes his next cyber move with friends in virtual vociferousness.

In the next room, my daughter squeals, secrets I guess, tamping down her girlie giggles.

The man on the couch coughs, catches his breath then chuckles at the idiot box,
in muffled notes the next door neighbors converse in tension talking circles all tied up in Nots.

A muscle car motors by, fuel floats in the window crack, the bass is left behind

on the pavement, the other side, by the five, waves of autos roll by as white noise, 

white caps, following white perforated lines, swooshing along over catseye caps.

The neighbors' small child cries in huge bursting idles this bedtime,

the grey cat on my left side sighs, letting down his heavy head, insisting

nothing is that interesting.

A dove coos to his lover, and purr

the phone vibrates atop the oaken tiny rec-table, my stomach churns bile,

Blood swirls around my wetware, grey matter, then hits the fingertips hard,
my heart sinking a steady beat,

a door creaks down the dark hall, a glass in the sink, the faucet flows, pipes hiss, 

door whines,

and falls shut.


Painting by Augustus Egg [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The man who cried False Alarm

Every morning this week

the neighbors car alarm has gone off-

beeping, blinking, blaring, whining, wailing-

in the darkest neighborhood of morn.

Parked across the street

it goes on and off for two full cycles,

at least,

someone is trying to snooze.

Already awake at that time,

I am still disturbed by the ruckus,

my tail feathers are ruffled,

and the worm has been scared off.

It could have been an accident-

if it wasn’t a recurrence.

And it could have been a real robbery,

since much sleep has been stolen

in our neighborhood.

Or perhaps it's petty theft-

left bereft of quiescent courtesy...

Likely, a case of false alarm was set

to scare the wolves away, 

(the wrong) buttons have been pushed-

not all alarms work the same. 


Image credit By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons. The second jungle book., 1895.