Can you guess what I was listening to last night? Take a read – oh, and bring the earplugs!
What are you doing up there?
I hear you pounding on the floors again,
A thin line for my ceiling, my ears,
And my last nerve -
That is growing weaker by the second.
You make me wish I still had earplugs
(Though I don’t miss the days I wore them
As I slept before night shifts of zombie eyes and tired isolation).
You can pound until 7pm, that’s the city bylaw,
And I have the phone number for the strata president,
He’s a friend, you know.
Do you own a watch?
I do hope you get that renovation done,
Though I don’t know your name
(Or your project)
And then let me have a quiet night -
As my mind is loud enough without your pounding from above me.
©2012 Christy Birmingham