I have angered the house gods

I have angered the house gods and so the noise follows me

A low grumble that only I seem to be able to hear.

In the first house it was deafening and I ran the furnace fan all the time, wore earplugs, headphones, and turned the TV up loud. I watched our neighbors to see if they winced when the Korea Air flight thundered overhead. Everyone acknowledged yes, they could hear it (sorta), but to me it sounded like a groan of a troll under a bridge adorned with prehistoric ferns and in the night while my bed shook I would dream of planes somersaulting at my feet and living under flight paths so low I could almost touch the landing gear.

A psychic dimple

Bending the arc of history

I checked the weather constantly, I knew the worst combos of wind and humidity, the radius of noise mitigation. I knew the decibel threshold where you could ask for the “port package”

And I knew that it wouldn’t make any difference at all.

Now, on the third house, it’s no better, and sometimes it’s worse and I need to make an offering

I need to atone.

But how can I know what they want?

Cigarettes and booze and incense and oranges

A tattoo of a stained glass window, 

a tomato sun setting into a cobalt sea

Good works to assuage, attempts to accept

But

Perhaps I’m chased because I keep running

Turning ‘round and ‘round, a dog trying to find a comfortable position

Summer cat by my door

Dreaming about a life that never was, never can be

Rewinding my life to the place where the tape broke

The golden hour forever 

The train on the trestle

And you're on your own, 

you're in the street.