The Chain

 

The whir of a bicycle chain, amidst the soft silence of a midsummer soiree 

Tyres on tarmac after pints with pals 

And the excited chatter of familiar newness 

The ping of a bicycle bell in the same city with the same people 

But a new year, new conversations and new ideas 

And an eagerness to see what autumn in the city holds this time around 

A peace disrupted by a chain  

And the desperate, incessant hammering of fists 

Against the door that I am unable to enter 

How loud is loud enough 

To wake those within 

Without disturbing those without 

An ironic attempt to break into the suffocating space 

Sealed by a contract and locked with a chain 

Contrary to what Stevie Nicks sings, to break the latter is the prerogative 

The electronic bubbling of the WhatsApp dial tone 

Rung once, twice, several times each 

Failing to pierce the silence of slumber 

A quiet house, unbroken and uninterrupted by chattering students 

Who adorn the leafy street 

And break through the pools between the lampposts 

A vulgar, obtrusive clatter as bike slips from grasp 

Followed by the softer, subtle clinking of keys 

Suspended uselessly in the door that stands ajar 

The stained glass lights and darkens 

As bike lights flash off and on and off and on 

In time with the unanswered dial tones

This person is not available right now 

Please leave a message 

After the tone 

Neither am I 

And I have nothing 

To say