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Grumbling along the road
Like an omen, sounding through the air.
The headlights drown out the
Stars, bleed into streets, and flit
In and out of my vision.
It’s a race,
Roaring towards, squealing away,
Anticipation of collision.
The grumble rattles
Picture frames
And closes blinds.
I shut my eyes tight.
The night is dark,
I can hear it coming.
emerald medrano
Why Do I Only Hear Cars At Night?
author bio
Emerald Medrano is a pianist, a poet, and a lover of fashion. Their work has previously been featured in Chrysalis. Emerald creates poetry about their experiences in life as a queer person with PTSD. They also collect rocks, which is cool.
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