passing cars

I force myself to focus
sounds of cars passing. stop
at a light turning left, and cars
passing by lights bleed.
it’s oddly soothing,
cars pass in perfect cadence,
monotony comforts cold. But–
it’s not the sounds themselves
that soothe. It’s that

space between

each whoosh– sudden moment of silence
dappling the chaos. You know it’ll be there,
sure as each ear popping exhale
wheezing from every car, perfect
if only for a moment.

–B McKee

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