Art of Noise on Sirius is punctuated by
passing cars and the same unhelmeted motorcycle
driver
who boomerangs this street every hour.
Morning has shifted from shy sunflower
to clear and stridently hot pale blue noon.
My mental satchel is packed without an itinerary
apart from warming my coffee and washing last night’s wine glass.
Voices on the pavement close to my door
raise my hackles for a minute – I’m not dressed for unannounced
arrivals
– but pass like a blurb on a hardback.