Repeating Numbers

 

I rolled over too look at my clock

When I heard them coming. 

It was 6:30. 

Good God, it was Sunday morning.

I wasn’t sure which was louder,

The slamming of windows along the street

Marking their progress or their relentless chanting. 

 

The Repeating Numbers were out for their daily March. 

I could hear their drone approaching my house. 

 

“One two.  One two. 

Sound off. Sound off. 

We do what we please.

We do what we please. 

We don’t eat cheese. 

We don’t eat cheese.”

 

I buried my head in the pillow.

It was no use.