David Fekete

The day is still, this still day
This still, quiet, overcast, near drizzling day
It doesn’t feel like late summer, nor early fall
Just a pause, a cessation in turmoil
Chaos suspended, quiet, all day quiet, striking quiet in my life
Relief I can’t fully breathe in
I heard children playing outside, today
I drove through the overcast, quiet day, running errands
Swedish Crepes at IHop, a new SIM card for my iPhone
I don’t feel the season, but endure the heat
My apartment is hard to sit in with but a floor fan
It appears they evicted the gang from my condo complex
There is plywood behind the shut-up sliding glass balcony door, windows
I don’t see that guy who threw things and hollered obscenities all night
Hip-hop blaring from his apartment at 3AM, now boarded up
The Asian family next my apartment must have moved in with relatives
We parked on the street since he broke into Hans’ Dakota pickup, twice
I don’t know if I can recover to the way things were
Not after all that, the way things had been, the way things are
Though not for me, now, but for someone, the police
I don’t know what to do with this quiet