SUNDAYS

The noise that roams aimlessly
From Monday to Saturday
Settles amongst trees and windows silently.

As you open your window you realize the noise is absent
The street wears earth underneath and nothing on top of it
You glance at your neighbors blankly
And before you turn away, you realize they are chewing on words
Words that can only reach your window sill
Or the trees beside your window.

You sprint downstairs to meet them
Your house is quiet but no one is asleep
No phone calls to receive or give
You make a stop in the kitchen to drink water
You attempt to gulp but there is no sound
You also realize that the fresh taste of water is even better
You turn back and your sister is also chewing on air
From her mouth like your neighbors did
You move closer to feel her throat movement
You tap her severely to give you words
As if you own her words
Or the noise of her words.

Outside, your neighbors are floating on their driveway
They don't seem to be able to pounce on bare floor
No matter how hard they try
You too are floating on your driveway
Your words cannot lift themselves
They float away from your mouth only to
Return to your window and trees.

You go back inside your house,
And just before you close your window
You realize how peaceful it feels without noise
And you give your words away to your window again.