Distant Thump

The window left a crack,

just enough for the cool to slip in,

and then that sound, like a loose heart

beating somewhere down the block.

A hollow thud, then a skip,

a drag, another heavy beat.

It carries on the humid air,

then loses itself behind a tree,

or a passing car's quick rush.

It’s not a rhythm I remember

playing to, not mine. Just a sound

that comes and goes, pulling a string

of something I almost recall

from a different street,

a time when dusk meant

that sound meant

something more.

Just a ball on pavement,

a kid still out, ignoring the streetlights.