by Aaron Fernando
They play their fiddles in the same way
That I unwrap nectarines:
Hastily but cautiously
Careful not to damage what’s inside
Revealed one peel at a time
A chirp and a warble at a time
Until the crickets and cicadas
Have performed the night away.
They play to a beat only they can hear
Following the lead of an invisible conductor.
Much in the same way that an invisible conductor
Announces that passengers should
Stand clear of the closing doors
Just as they all slam shut, shutting out
The cries of crickets and
Shrieks of cicadas—
The train continues
While a little boy in the back has his face
Pressed against the window
Hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of
Whoever can create such a symphony.
That boy lies awake at night
Tossing and turning, wondering
If he’ll ever find a toss or a turn in his dreams
That will let him have crickets and cicadas
As his lullaby, one that rocks him to sleep
Even when he is too old for peace.
The ACs hum and the buses drive off into the unknown
And he hears the train doors slam shut
So many blocks away—
Shutting them out
And shutting him in.
Whoever said this city never slept
Forgot to tell the smallest passengers,
Those that missed their train.
