there’s an
army outside my house.
an invisible
collection of bulldozers
steamrollers,
jackhammers,
god-knows-what-else
equipment
for ripping
up the old road
and laying
down a fresh one.
invisible
because I haven’t looked
I’ve only
listened --
it sounds like
men are
yelling and crushing
cement with
hand tools.
trucks are
beeping rhythmically
as they roll
backwards
or pour
their guts into gaping
holes in the
street.
it’s loud
but I love
to wake up
early and feel
everything
inside and around
me
rearranging
improving.
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