Doppler Effect

By Saurabh Sinha

Under city lights, people dissolve, distant billboards, neon reverberating
until it blends into

cracks of aged sidewalk.

I came here with a thought, but seconds ago it slipped between sulci, the blaring horn of a
cab picking it up, yellow metal box cross stitching lanes at

40 mph, license plate now a thread slithering off needle,
and

I wonder what it would be like to be Christian Doppler
in 1842 in Prague,
knowing you would always be drifting away,

distorted, flattened
sound waves drowning in the wake of siren flashes;

an ambulance’s cries
as someone clings to life through a red light.

 

 

 

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