Cacophony.

So once a week, when I go home, I see this lady, and she's
conducting the sunset.
What I mean is, I'm driving home late Thursday afternoon and I see
her little red Corvair by the side of the road, and I look out
across the long, brown ground of clumps and clods,
and she's standing out in the middle of the
huge
huge
huge
field
with the wind blowing her swimming brown hair
she's facing the setting sun with her arms out wide
like people used to face their lovers across the sere wheat fields
and as the dark creeps across the plain towards her back
she waves her hands and she
conducts the sunset.
Only
Yesterday
Monday, one of her days off,
there was a big white Jeep Grand Cherokee sitting beside the road
and there was this guy standing near the edge of this field and he
was painting a big white sign in tiny, precise, straight, olive-green
letters, and he was finishing the last zero in the phrase, "Lots from
$200,000."
And
I imagine
the field full of big ugly houses and the ground echoing for weeks
with the sound of drag-racing yuppies on their riding lawnmowers
at 7 AM on Sunday mornings while their kids scream at each other
over the noise of the television
So
I wonder
What is she going to do? Where will she go now
to conduct the sunset?
Or
What happens if she just
stops?