Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Symphony In a Garden Apartment

by Paul Vincent Andrews

her ghost white clavicles
hover over unused thighs

it’s grown quiet now
and you can hear
the neighbors above

screaming, vehement, unbridled

you’re now mad at the first floor screamers
who an hour ago you drowned out
with your own mad midnight music

if an elf lived between
floors, for a transitory enchanted moment
would an angelic harmony
exist in the vacuum between storms

you quickly realize
this is bullshit
and the tenors upstairs
and sopranos down
may at best
create a raga
of cacophony

now you’re mad
at them

how dare they
intrude on this quiet

you consider
telling her the story

the shrill mousetrap
sounds may shut
them up

you stop thinking
look up

at the praying mantis
in front of you

her green eyes
praying, she chokes
softly on her breath

you look up

you can’t tell the story again
and head upstairs

someone needs
to say something
to the neighbors

1 comment:

  1. i hate first floors (in general)...but screaming is a different story...

    neighbors make tolerance possible...but then again, so do children...

    an elf told me once that he preferred new york city balconies over brushfire bushes (on fire) in darkness...

    the neighbors told me to say something to you...but i forgot what it was on my way to your didn't matter any/how/way...

    by the time you woke up, i'd fallen asleep on the hallway floor...locked away in a dream of 1-2-3 beats...

    ahhhhh...there is always a Sum Won who's Lost and still loses...who's still Write in Cunt/rolling (even the things) he refuses to do....and then chooses NotTo/orTo...