I Open The Car Window

Today i open the car window

and smell gasoline’s putridity

blown in by the breeze

don’t mind the barbaric gust

since it also ferries the sound

of an eighteen-wheeler

i can still detect

i reach through the open window

caress exhaust-filled air  

with the palm of my hand

enjoy the truck’s engine’s grunt

the brakes’ squeal

the exhaust pipe’s belch

won’t hear the truck in a year

can still hear it now

just as i can still hear and answer

the sparrow who alights

on my adirondack chair

and sings each day to me

a migrating bird’s warble

traffic’s hum

my children’s voices

my husband’s comedic timing

all rush past me

i reach out

sounds slip

through my fingers

soon I won’t know to

reach out at all

i dwell on the truck’s din

just as i dwell

on the sparrow’s trill

and whisper,

thank you