I spray saline in my nose,
Calamine on my foot,
While I fumble for words,
And the window's stained with seven years of cigarette
Smoke.

And you wonder if it's all
An experience?
Pinache and Chinese mustard
On the rug.
Its all so transcendental,
Reality in all it's vibrant montony. As a lace curtain
Lifts without a care,
And I ponder for words in the night breeze.

And my third toe hurts,
And it matters little To the surroundings, Except for the
Slick salesman heading up the walk with his wares
And a shark tooth smile.
While I dream Mozart
In 3 stanzas.

As the neighbors begin arguing in Spanish,
And doors slam and Voices
In the street.
The moon sets to the west,
And my third toe still hurts,
And the ache reminds me to
Be still. And I sit listening
To Brahms, Breathing in the
Shadow you create,
And the silence of a refrigerator running, the
Settling of time in a hazy window On a Friday and my
Toe hurts as a car peels
From the lot, As I strain
On the 4th stanza.

And my 600 pound neighbor
Above me settles in for the night, And I wonder of
Load bearing floors,
And overcooked dinners,
And how did I ever survive
My misspent youth,
As I dream of new ways
To wax electric.
I've since sold the copyright,
Discussed over drinks
In the terrace...

And I wait on the words,
And the beer settles my toe,
And I wait on the words,
And at last they come-
But my pen's out of ink
And the pizza's done.
So I guess I'll listen to my Neighbors argue in Spanish instead.