loudness tender_square the lock mechanism on a car remote gets stuck in a purgatory of beeping. thick mats are thumped together like fabric cymbals releasing dust into the air. children scream in unsophisticated arias, notes rising in pitch. the persistent drone of lawnmowers are buzzing hornets in the distance i can’t swat. a dog barks and howls for an hour and i’m moaning shut the fuck up. i can’t go back inside; his silent worries are the loudest of them all, choking thoughts like creeping charlie. i miss the morning i had when the city was sleeping in at six am, when i was walking as far as my legs could carry me, when the only sounds were my feet crunching gravel, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. 220529 what's it to you? who go blather from