Some sort of sound wave hit my apartment building today.
It was cacophonous and loud, but also sharp; like a deafening dog whistle.
The building shook like it was in a snowglobe handled by a zealous toddler,
and a ringing in my ears made it hard to think, and would not go away.
(As if I need any more trouble thinking)
Glasses were knocked off the shelves and laid in shards on the floor.
A fine layer of plaster-dust covered the countertops.
Car alarms wailed up and down the block, neighbors stirred about.
The electronics in the apartment were on the fritz.
The cable box was scrambled.
(It was flashing Sanskrit)
My cell phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.
(Although nobody was calling.)
The shower nozzle was twisted around.
(I washed the floor by mistake)
When I walked outside I noticed that the Hollywood sign was misspelled.
I got in my car and the voices on NPR were coming through in Russian.
Traffic on the way to work was sparse, though, and wonderfully effaced.
The freeway was empty as a dried-up wishing well;
As if everyone decided that it was a weekend, or to leave town,
or even better, to live the lives they’re dying to live.
(dying to live… what an odd thought)
The sound wave must have pushed the clouds and planes out over the ocean
because the sky was barren and vast, like a rambling poem by a 17-year-old.
(perhaps one of my own)
The ringing in my ears still reverberated, it made my thoughts funny…
I pondered driving past the office, and onto the Pacific Coast Highway,
and thought of driving north along the coast as far as possible.
Wherever the car ran out of gas, I would make my new home.
It’s fate. It’s where I was meant to live. This is it!
There I would find my destiny. My life’s purpose.
(And I’ve purposefully been avoiding it far too long)
The daydream was so enticing that I missed my exit.
By the time I doubled back around and made it to work,
my tank was on E, and the sound wave’s echo finally subsided.
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