mornings come too early

mornings come so early.
I rub
my face, feeling the bristles
of my beard. I let out a yawn,
a groan.
two drinks too many, perhaps,
last night.
there's a note on the pillow
beside me.
it's over, it says. don't
ever contact me again. I found
a blonde hair in the sink.
oh well, I say out loud
and crumble the note into
a ball and send
it towards the basket
in the corner.
I stretch, then lean
towards
the window.
I peer out the blinds at
the neighbor on his lawn.
why is he so cheerful,
so early in the day?
he's whistling for God's
sake
as he walks his dog.
now he's kissing his wife
goodbye as she hands him
his briefcase
and lunch. she winks at him
as he waves.
he beeps his horn farewell
as he pulls away.
I have to get out of
this happy neighborhood.