Crackling

Just under the surface,

very near the top,

under the foam

but below the lip

is a sizzling silence

set to announce itself.

I heard it moving

through the train cars

and in all the talk at

the bars. It’s about to

spill out in front, at

your feet.

It’s current is writhing

and coursing over sidewalks

and building facades. There’s

anxious eyes scanning the

streets for the hint of

the anxiety bubbling

just beyond sight.

Urgency fills the faces

of the men and women

on the shores of lake

anticipation. Planes cut

the sky with scalpel’s of

sound to drown out the

waves of dissonance lapping

the beaches.

I’m ready though.

My coffee is good.

My hair is perfect.

I’m less worried than

I should be

but just worried

enough.