Black Cars, White Trucks

The white helmets are spraying the street with graffiti of blue and yellow and green lines and numbers. This is city planning at work. Soon they will be back with giant machines that dig holes to be filled in with another group while more white trucks observe the work. Meanwhile plumbers, painters with ladders, landscapers with trailers redirect themselves around the construction in white trucks. Even the guy who picks up the laundry and delivers it back all clean and pressed is in a white truck.

The cars parked on weekends and delivering their family’s home at night are all black. Every now and then there is a red sportster or a sleek silver racer, but most are black, some with tinted windows. Most look shiny and new so maybe that is all that is available or there is some special memo passing around.

The houses are coming and going as fast and the cars on the street change. Instead of the moving truck taking out the old load of furniture and another bringing in a new load, contractors show up to demolish the old house and rebuild a new monstrosity. Some sit vacant waiting another year to pass before being placed on the market, again.

The parade of carriages carrying the results of what goes on behind closed doors continues. Little playgrounds are built to the glee of the children who would rather stay inside with the big screen TVs. Then they are gone and another couple takes their turn at 1940’s suburbia.

Yet by sunset, the black cars are parked and the white trucks are gone and all is quiet.