Three Blocks

Anna Baker

Listen to the trains

they cry -- they wane

in unison

and pierce my eardrums

(both of them --

one high, one low)

with iron fangs.

Like two rhythms

thrown together

running miles

without feet

without a common

place to meet

but in the air --

the waves of sound

penetrating

all the walls

surrounding me

and my earlobes

when I am left

to dream alone

of working engines

blowing steam.

Still the spoken

whispered

screaming

horns harrass me

as they pass me

just 3 blocks away.

Through thin plaster

here they linger

blowing me

3 blocks away.