I heard some neighbors
down the hall
talking about how
morale is low
and rent is high
but it can't be all bad
with wine in
my glass
and women
in and out my door
it can't be all bad
when they burst with
such a beautiful thrill
their anger
their slammed doors
their clenched fists
it can't be all bad
when they keep
me up all
hours of the night
with echoes of
love I never felt

morale is low
and the rent is high
they said
and maybe they're right
--the rent sure has me
by the throat--
but the wine still pours
night after night
the women still come and
the women sure as hell
still go
but that's the beauty of it
you can't hold on
too long
no no no
never too long
just glimpses at
a time
and all you can
really do is
just pour another glass
because it can't be all bad
can it?