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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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