I was awakened at 4:00AM Thursday morning by the sound of an open car door signal – that incessant ‘ding-ding’ that occurs if you leave your door open with the keys still in the ignition. A large sedan was parked in the middle of the street with two doors and the trunk open. The headlights were still on, pointing askew into our neighbor’s yard. A guy was holding a flashlight above his head, shining it on the trunk where he appeared to be tinkering with something. I could not figure out what he was doing. My mind kept rolling back to a friend's description of cars being robbed in their neighborhood last week.
Then I noticed that the old gas grill was not sitting on the side of the street, where I had left it. I put my glasses on to clarify the view through my open window. The guy had crammed the grill, standing up, in his trunk. He was tying the trunk lid to something so it didn’t bounce around.
Junk cruising at 4:00AM. He didn’t care about the dinging door, or the headlights, or the clanking of an old grill. He did care to beat the garbage truck.
Not in our nature
to know what
is journey and what
Even if we knew
we would not admit.
From Erica Jong's poem, "You Are There".