The Man Next Door

The Man Next Door

I’ll never know
the man next door, but
I know him.

I know how he talks
I especially
know how he laughs

When he talks
it is rushed,
like his mistress only has :30
and he’s running late

When he talks
it sounds like he’s yelling
at a neighbor
whose dog just took flesh from
the inside of his leg

I think the man might
be fat
and red-faced
and maybe even a bit jolly?
underneath his anger
at the decades.

But he’s always talking
… no
he’s always yelling
at his son

It’s always about the homework
the fucking homework!
it’s never done right
and he must yell
many times
to get that point across

And if he didn’t have the laugh
I might just call the cops
to save his son
from his future anger
at the decades

But the man’s laugh…
it always comes after
the homework talk
his laugh blows in
like the fresh metallic smell
of a hard rain


When the man and his son
settle in to watch TV
or play video games
or whatever the hell
they’re doing over there
that my open window
opens my world to.

as soon as the LEDs
brighten their faces
the laughter starts

But I should say
because its more like
a volcano

Brahh ha ha ha

Brahhh ha ha ha ha ha

And as much as I loathe
this man
I don’t know
for infecting his son with anger
at the decades

I do know
when he laughs
I laugh

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