The mailbox swings shut. A neighbor slams his door. My lover rolls on his side. My coffee pot finishes its brew. A car cranks. A school bus beeps to reverse. A rifle is shot. A police car zooms by--on a mission to submission. An ambulance pulls out its gear from the back. Oxygen mask, stretcher, looking for its victim to strap. Paper ruffles, mp3 player shuffles as the disciplined man begins his morning run. A baby cries and the mother wipes at her wrinkles, only to find they haven't disappeared. A widow lays in bed, ten minutes longer than yesterday, not sure when to begin and or how to end the past that won't return.