Racket

Outside the flake white window
sound like leviathan ribcage maraca
craaark craaark scraping comes out
of a white council truck jacking up
a car inch by inch heaving metal
wheeze, broken bottle and card
board crushed up in the bottom
of a plastic green recycling tray,
skip noises, car engine rises, leaf
mumbles, pneumatic rattles, cement
churnings, plane engines bowling
their steel load cross the sky howling
like wind through an empty home.
The ice cream van clatters by again,
spangly off key chimes churn out
the same old cheery tune that means
crackrock powder grass etc, midnight
you'll know when they pull up beside
that a magnum isn't on the menu.
Inside our room's white walls
we laze the afternoon propped sleepy
on sofa or sleepy Josh feet out the
window reading A Room with a View.
Ours is just of plane trees, cars,
and other opposite white windows.
Tommy taps his thumb on the armrest
and turns the page, spaghetti sauce
down him, tired sigh. Josh talks
in his phone call corner for a sec.
The lava lamp's cold, the coffee cups
empty, ash tray tidy, scissors close their
points at light speed into afternoon infinity.