that the walls were so thin
in my
first apartment
off Brinkley Road.
i didn't know
that everyone
could hear the music
i played,
the loud
conversations with my
friends,
the love i made with
the second or third love of
my life
in the bedroom
or in the kitchen.
i didn't realize how thin
the walls were
until the banging
from next door and below,
from above
on the floor began.
1 comment:
People always say
that they are longing for some
exciting love --the kind you see in movies where
the man can barely get his pants down
as he hoists the girl up on the kitchen counter
pushing plates and cups out of the way with a sweep
of his arms, oblivious to the good china clattering and shattering
on the kitchen floor. Or maybe she is dressed up
like June Cleaver in a pretty 50s dress
cinched at the waist. All perfect in
pearls. Ward will come in and turn
into some kind of an animal. Who in the world
would choose to do that when the bed
is upstairs waiting: the nice cool sheets, crisp.
But hey whatever if the kitchen floor is. your thing--
go for it.
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