Butterfly Ripples

Observations from a Third-Storey Window

I live in apartment 72B

in the Baxter Hotel, an apartment

which is situated on the third story,

and is right next to

(some say unfortunately)

the Baxter train station,

where, every morning at 7.30

an old steamer chugs by,

rattling my windows and

making my cup of tea

clatter against the old saucer.

At 8.30, or sometimes 8.25,

when the couple next door wake up

and start making breakfast,

an electronic train zooms past,

streaking through Baxter station

without stopping.

Its vibrations on the train tracks

make my whole apartment clatter

upon the saucer of the foundations.

The door chitters against its frame;

nervous teeth on edge,

and the floor trembles like

(some people say)

it did in 1978,

when a great earthquake shivered in the ground

but passed Baxter,

intent instead on Great Hanston,

where I hear, from the paper,

a new museum has opened:

only last week.

From the third storey window,

which is mostly fogged up

from the daily 7.30 steamer,

I can see past the roof

of the Baxter train station

and onto Muriel Road,

one of the main streets in town,

where the bank and the bar are both situated

which is

(some say)

a most unfortunate arrangement.

The roofs of the buildings are mainly dull;

silver corrugated iron and tile

that used to be shiny

but has long since been smothered

by a layer of dust and coal-smog and birds’ droppings

which sometimes washes off in rain

making the roofs look clean and new,

but soon enough

(as is their tendency)

the birds come back

and re-deposit their droppings,

which slide down the wet, slippery roofs

in streaks

and clump together in the gutter.

About a year ago,