Listening

Listening…
the second floor has
a departure. A car
comes to life and leaves.
I look out the side window;
it’s the far car, the Mazda.
The little Honda remains.

Listening…
small cars and SUVs
go up and down the road
at irregular intervals.
My own driveway stays quiet.
No one comes to visit me
and I’m so happy with that.

Listen:
my heart’s full of blood and stars.
If I turn everything off you could hear
the pulse, forward and pushy but subtle
as if a wind had gone susurrant in my chest
and stirred outward once in a while.
It makes me want to die soon
and see where it goes. If it goes,
if it comes with me to the next place.

Listening…
meanwhile, the light grows outside
as it comes toward another inexorable day.
No more cars, no more thumping
in my chest. I’m alone again
with the radio and my crushing thoughts
and the hope for some return of the living:

the chatter of my chest, my heart
asking for more, my head filled with sand
as numerous as stars wish they could be.
Nothing more. I close my ruined eyes
on this splendid wreck of a world.
The Mazda is gone.
I wish I had gone with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T