Sounds Came & Went

by Carl Santoro

There were noises that cascaded over my hair
into my ears today.

The grinding gears of a battle
between the garbage truck and
a FedEx truck for right of way.

The clacking of keys on an iPhone
until they got their message across.

The ever so slight
patters of the pads
of the cat's approach and departure.

That bird flashing by
sending out loud cries
of information,
then disappearing repeating
its important messages into
the cobalt blue above.

The somewhat, somehow,
comforting soft horn blasts
of a distant train mindful
of its tracks ahead.

The inevitable thud as
a television remote meets the floor
spilling its contents out,
plastic disassembling, 
regurgitating double A's
all akimbo.

The paper of the news - the newsy paper -
the papery news,
being touched, pinched, flipped
licked, lifted and flipped.

The desperate beeping from a microwave,
a dishwasher, a refrigerator, air fryer
mad because I'm not standing there at attention.

Branches brushing against my suburban

aluminum fortress,
thwacking exterior walls because of wind,
then falling silent.

Me forcing lead to scratch paper.

Make it speak, make it speak

my words!

The no-sound sound of

the blinking cursor prompt

/ / / / / / /(only straighter)

silent but always wanting.

I'm exhausted.

The sighing out.