Having once heard the streetcar we can still hear its clang here on this strand where languor is counterpoint in its stillness to the silver waves that break against, and fall from, the rocks, until the silence again descends into the finitude it takes for, once more, the waves to break, recalling the streetcar, its torque, its screech and roar, the electric air, which would fill one with wonder at the varied sound of the world, that furious clang, that is there, then gone, into silence, then back. Copyright © Roy Jacobstein All rights reserved TriQuarterly, Winter 2004
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