the car alarm
a late model
silver piece of conspicuous consumption
with a sunroof
parked in front of my kitchen window
and for three days now its alarm
has been going off
at intermittent moments
breaking the continuity of thought
and life with its blaring wonk
i look outside like a man about to commit murder
and see the car’s warning lights
flashing like some beacon of hell
when the noise stops it’s as if
chest pains or bad gas has passed
it’s the closest that i’ll come to god
you can hear the whole neighborhood yelling
at this car alarm
kids crying, dogs barking
the old decrying the fall of their civilization
yet no one comes out to fix it
no buff asshole in reflector shades holding a clicker
no dim blonde giggling to her gal pals
and dangling a set of keys
they are how i picture this car’s owner to look
some overly tan and privileged trust fund baby slumming here
one who revels in keeping a neighborhood at his mercy
someone who loves summer
when the alarm goes off again
i think about all that i’d like to do to that car
smash its windows
slash its tires
key both sides of it or pelt it with eggs
leave a nasty note that says
fix your car, asshole
but i do nothing for there is nothing to do
no one else does a thing
because we are all prisoners here
we know that these kinds of people have won the war
the last great american revolution
so i close the window
put on the fans and blast the radio
i sit on the couch and drink cheap wine
try to think about hot legs or autumn in europe
as the car alarm goes
beep
beep
beep
ad nauseam
under the din of life and death
in rotten brooklyn.
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