Inorganic orchestrations
muffled by 8 panes of glass
and
incessant distractions of
gear-shifting, radio tuning, texting-while-not-driving and whirring white noise of one's ever churning mind
And yet in infrequent moments of inattention
all falls still
allowing aural imagery
to penetrate metallic chrysallis
Uninvited, street music
insinuates itself first in primal basslines
oozing up through rusting floorboards and worn rubber mats
rhythms pounding heels fallen arches and big toes
horns blare in midday reveille
breaking voices of graceless children longingly stretch past their years
with too-loud curses, like a toddler clunking along in mama's high heels
In personal silence
worlds pass
heads nod
as the beat goes on
