It's three a.m. at the neighbor's.
Someone's always fighting over there.
This time it's only two squad cars
And no bus--that's what they call
The ambulances, at least on the TV dramas,
But I'm drawn away from the TV.
Perhaps if I had on clothes I'd step outside.
They don't stay long this time,
Just talk out in the yard
And if anyone's taken away I've missed it.
I'm Gladys Kravitz these nights,
Watching the witching next door
Because three months ago it was a friend of mine,
Recovering from surgery or not
With a port direct to her stomach.
Crushed pills in ***** aren't real food.
Didn't know she was dying there--
Who the ambulance was for.
I don't sleep well these nights,
Don't know anyone who does.
The world has turned into a dream,
And the moon reflects mortality.