There's some shitty person on my floor who drags furniture around when doing housework.

Too lazy to lift it, or bother putting pads on the legs.

So everyone else around has to listen to that awful penetrating vibration on and on.

I think there are two kinds of people in the world.


Dog-lovers,


and people who hate dog-lovers.

When I hear about the world,


about the Middle East,


the Ukraine,


Africa,


I come to understand why


my mother,  in her later years,


was filled with such


despair.

I come to understand,


why old ladies tend to live on tea and toast,


and old gentlemen tend to live on tinned soup.

What is this?


When, how,

did it start?




They carefully pick up their dog's poop,

in a little plastic bag,

and tie it shut.


Then leave it by the sidewalk.

And walk away.



A message?

The days are filled with construction noise:
drills, hammers, saws, machines, thuds.


The neighbours come home and the evening is filled
with bangs, clunks, doors closing.


The neighbours get up and the morning is filled
with bangs, clunks, doors closing.


The outside noise filters in:
dogs, horns, sirens, skate boarders (ka-thunk, ka-thunk).


I've lived many places,
all spoiled by humans and their thoughtless noise.


How I hate them.

Walking on the streets:

People.


Shopping in the stores:

People.


Riding in the elevator:

People.



Coming home,

I crawl into bed:


Traumatized.