the disappearing

the trickle of
the pipes,
the hum of air
through
the vent.
I roll over
to pretend. I listen
to the early slap
of a paper
against the stoop.
is that the milk
man with
his glass
bottles
his butter and eggs.
who's in the other
room?
mother, father.
what century are
we in.
how did
then disappear
so quickly.