Expansion Joints

Three days of the same ceiling fan

makes the walls feel like they’re leaning in.

I’m out here where the concrete meets the sky,

under the belly of the I-95.

The rain stops, then spits, then dies.

Above me, the trucks hit the metal seams,

a rhythmic thud that shakes the marrow of my shins.

The vibration travels through my wet soles,

counting the heartbeats I forgot how to track.