shit goddam

Some Traffic
by seth landman
from coconut twelve



I'm listening to permanent footsteps, ahead,

in the future, the whine of a breaking machine,

the sound of putting off for tomorrow what



I could do today could I do today. I'm listening to

the whole year, saying it back. Saying it, losing

the whole thing. Talking back to it at the end



of the day while the fridge hums.

Well, electrocution; well, stargazing. Listening

the cicadas into the year where what year is this



empty husk. Seeds listening to a constant

forge, forgetting the white noise of the factory,

factoring in the possibilities while the world said



this is how to lose an entire year and go back.

Listening as cars take in birds and begin to fly.

As in this is the year I'm hearing, knowing this year



is far away. What you hold is only small,

is in your hand, is not far away. In your head,

not out loud. I'm hearing myself think



in the frozen traffic waves that pause,

hearts that stop and shatter,

highways in constant repair, all night long.