bass

the other evening
we had one of those quiet husband-and-wife scenes
the two of us sitting up in bed
with our backs against the wall
at the end of a long day
we might have been talking about our mothers
or if we could take that next vacation

the window was between us
at the head of the bed
and abruptly the sash started to shudder
the pane within its stile
low and long, then stop and repeat
at a different pitch, one audible to the human ear
we could hear the low rumbling of bass

this was the sound of music or something of that ilk
coming from an unseen car or truck
which had turned down our street
driven along 4th avenue like a mobile earthquake
like the rumbling of a giant’s digestive track
someone had chosen, and carefully set up
this roving, rumbling distraction
someone who waited at the red light

i imagined him there in the drivers seat
and i wanted him to have in his head
the picture of us up in our bed
discussing what ever it was
i wished for him to see me casually
place a finger against the pane
to quiet the rattle and buzz
and without missing a beat, continue
yeah, a vacation would be nice