The Neighbors....

The Neighbors

Who’s bowling up there?
I’m not a radically conservative square
Who doesn’t like a party but I do believe
At three a.m. my sanctuary should be silent
Not the pounding fist of belligerence
With mop handle brooms poking holes
In my ceiling
Every night my neighbors chew my glass
Skull with their teeth on a microphone,
Recite Lou Reed’s metal machine music
In the voice of a shrieking cat,
Weld shut their children’s braced teeth
While they mumble and scream
Warriors chipping at my walls above for
Revenge— nothing seems to curtail
Their all night orgies of fascist trampling
Over my beleaguered eyelids that would
Like to remain shut until 6 a.m. at least,
So I can do my yoga without rupturing
Tiny holes in my stomach or passing
Out until my bicycle while parking
And because they don’t stop
I must get old-school-acme-cartoon
Explosion on their asses-maybe they’ll
Think its drug induced and they will turn
Into a basket of stars scattered in the cosmos
Ready to explode, as you will stand outside smiling
As the building cookie crumbles to the ground
In a swath of dust and blindness, and realize you
Have taken it too far and now have no home to
Return to…

by Micah Zevin 2009