Tattle Tale Engine Poem by Patti Masterman

The thief was parked in the street waiting, watching
The bag was over the surveillance camera, twenty foot up;
ten foot long bag, hanging down
Where do you even find such a large garbage bag?
Acrobatic thieves with a long pipe, no less
Waiting and watching, are they here, are they home?
Are they gonna notice us? Shhh...
Then the door opening, the discovery,
and the engine roaring to life in the street,
behind the trees, the truck careening away, almost invisible,
sounding almost airborne
That distinctive roar of the engine that I'll never forget
I hear it every night now; once of an evening, early or late,
Sooner or later, that exact soprano note..
The whining high pitched and continuous
Heading south again for miles and miles, fading slowly
like an airplane's hum-
The same truck, the same thief
I can't help wondering, where's it going now?