A Momentary Soundtrack to the Street Side
A brief snippet of a song passes
Like a whispered echo
Across the cavernous, cement crosswalk.
I'm poised between four directions:
Quadrophonic polyrhythms rumble
From the rubber drum—
Pothole clatter and pebble tones.
Obscured bass notes soak the air;
They drown in the dilution of distance.
The song seems to end so suddenly,
But it never really ends—
It's merely a piece of the sonata
That begins the cacophonous, disjunctive
Symphony of our ambiance.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
