I killed the engine and the headlights died

I killed the engine and the headlights died,

leaving the driveway in a pool of gray.

But the noise followed me back inside

from a stage half a county away.

A high-pitched whine like a distant wire

cutting through the dark of the hall.

My eardrums are pulsing with leftover fire

and the silence is no help at all.

I found a crumpled earplug on the stand,

a yellow foam bit that didn't do much.

I held the small ghost of the night in my hand

and felt for a switch I could touch.