My neighbor's curtains are ragged They hang in tatters and shreds I wonder about the state of his soul: If his spirit is alive or dead. He plays Bruce Springsteen loudly He yells along with The Clash Perhaps he is in there dying Maybe he is just getting smashed. I wonder about the days he plays Kenny Rogers and Lucinda Williams. Is he in there longing for some Long lost country home again? Or is he feeling his oats A little kick to all that smoke? I suppose it doesn't matter I guess I don't much really mind But might yell a request to Put on something different Of a jazzier bluer kind. I wonder what he thinks of me Singing Fire and Rain and Have A Cup of Tea? Padding around my room In slippers, smelling the Coffee and the blooms In a fug of ugly self pity Shut in the safety of my tomb. I washed my curtains yesterday I threw them in the tub I had water up to my elbows And began to scrub scrub scrub I can't risk someone wondering About who is shut indoors Questioning my entertainment My existence, my work In relation to other people's laws. I turned down the music Then put my headphones in Piped some wall to wall Miles Davis into the Bathroom full of steam. He is playing Thunder Road again And boy he is playing it loud. Yet I never see anyone else go in To form some party-orientated crowd. Just how do curtains get that wasted Did birds tear them apart? Perhaps he sits with scissors Trying to let the light in Past the white boy jersey shore Dumb butt rock Brucey sound.
So enjoy your readings…I don’t have real next door neighbors any more which is fine with me…never enjoyed their selection of music. 🙂
I would be totally fine with no neighbors, except I don’t seem to be able to function outside of a city. What were they playing? Worse than fricking Bruce Springsteen and Lucinda Williams? Thank you for saying hello. I’m flying a little close to disaster out here – there is no continuation of subsidy and it would appear my ‘help’ is how can I put this delicately…politically opposed to my existence in the USA. See…see I can be diplomatic! Red hat, sweetie….red fucking hats…
It’s been a while since having those songs…I use the term loosely…inflicted on me, so don’t recall the names…I’ve never been much of a city person…prefer having open space around and some solitude.
I spent a little time up on Castiac Lake, near LA just after I left Los Angeles. It was pretty up there in a desert kind of way. I always feel most alone in cities – small town America can be a little intense for me, and the wilderness…well I suppose I have had enough of it personally, but totally get the desire for that space. As for the songs…yikes! It is always good to be where pleases the most. BTW your recent poetry has a real edge to it. Really enjoying your words. Your friend ~D