Chilanga Sprinkles

Two Februaries ago the dogs barked
A man’s metallic voice through a bullhorn
Commanded the neighbors to come out
Before sun-up a thunderous sound on repeat
From my bed I wondered if it was gunshots
The door five houses over came down
People in bullet-proof vests took the family
A helicopter low to the ground
To make sure no one got away
Within a few days a new car in the driveway
A piece of plywood where the door should be
A Ring camera attached the plywood
The blinds and curtains forever closed

I told myself not to forget this day
The first few months it was automatic
Looking at the plywood where the door had been
Thinking of the terror the neighbors felt that day
Of the terror I felt that day
As I wondered if it was I who was being told
To come out with my hands up
The shouting felt so close

Over time, the rhythm of life incorporated that house
And it became more difficult to remember
I had to be more intentional about noticing
Not only the plywood that still covered the doorway
But the frequency with which the grass was cut
How often the car in the driveway was gone
I forced myself to notice I’ve never seen the owner of the car
I began to wonder if the camera doorbell belonged to a spy
And then dared only to take side glances at the house
While wondering if this is how a conspiracy theorist is born

I think of that day as day one, but it wasn’t day one
Sometimes I wonder if it was my day one, my day of clarity
Then I remember the repeal of Roe v Wade
Maybe that was my day one, but I doubt it
Day one must have been like the creation of life on Earth
It must have taken millions of years
It must have been insidious, sneaky
For all I know, day one is still under way

Unmarked helicopters circle the neighborhood daily
Sometimes in the dark and sometimes in the light
Allegedly following car-jackers trying to get away
Military carrier planes deviate from their normal fight path
Looking like slow-moving grey whales filled with helium
But I know they are filled with weapons
Perhaps to protect us, perhaps to assault us
Days of celebration come and we celebrate
We ignore the looming threat and set off fireworks
In the distance I hear them, I don’t see them
I try to distinguish them from bombs
Pay attention to the cadence, which I do not recognize
If I could distinguish the whistle, a pop, the sky alight
It would likely not reassure me
Weapons also whistle and make pretty lights