Silence is theoretical here in my world
where an ambient thrum
exists in the background of everything else.

Some mornings, I can hear chirps
but they are usually swallowed
by the rolling of trucks
or the beeps of buses

and the shouts of construction workers.

There are creaks of gates
and skitters of I-don’t-want-to-know
and planes overhead at all hours.

Silence is never a sound
and darkness never a friend
in this part of town.
I’m not sure I’d recognize them
should I ever come to meet them.