Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini
accompanied by the roar

of two plastic dinosaurs
from the back seat of the car

the rain compounds the dark
and traffic inches along

I sent the package
to the wrong house, the old house

this is an uncertain endeavor
what is mine, what was mine

you are unaware in your carseat
watching the world melt

into discrete globes
of red and white and green

clinging to the windows
refracting chains of headlights,

taillights, stoplights, coming, going,
everything all so terribly relative—

I wonder if someone
has moved in yet

years before the prior tenants
sent their Christmas presents to us

ringing the doorbell
slightly panicked outside

in the weather
we had just moved in–

how many times now
have we driven this road

or been pulled along
like a needle in a groove

the night dark enough now
to question free will

among other things–
the absurdity of it all

the same canned roars
over and over, overlaying a piano

that sparkles and scatters
the same melodic phrase

reworking it again
a crescendo of rain

this our exact place
in the night, in the world—

the orchestra swells
a lung inhaling

the light turns green
but no cars advance