The pickup blazing its halogen brights
like two spotlighting helicopters
speeds into the cul-de-sac,
truck’s high beams a midnight sunrise
through a grid of blinds
before the driver realizes his mistake,
backs up to leave, carrying daytime
with him like lightning in a Tesla coil.
Who needs to witness so much at once
while noticing so little? Who
disturbs the peace without a sound?
I’d go outside & shake my fist at him
as if taunting an invisible god in the sky,
all-seeing, but he’s gone now,
pulling away amidst meteor streaks
of taillights ascending, night-bold,
stars red giants that grant no wishes,
proof, I think, the bastard’s lucky, too.