All day I hear nothing
From flat above;
Not a footstep,
Not a thud.
All’s silent and then,
With dread,
I wonder if they’re still alive
And hope that they’re not dead!
And pray that’s not the reason why
I never hear them move
Across the floor above
In thumpy-thuddy shoes.
To take my mind off
Thoughts of death and blood
I imagine that
The flat upstairs
Is home
To one gianormous slug.
Who never makes a sound,
Well,
Because he has no feet
And doesn’t need to go outside
Go to the shops or walk down the street
Because he’s filled his room with lots of houseplants
So he can just stay in to eat.
But safe to say
I’m reassured
At night when I try to sleep
I hear the very lively sound of
Noisy stomping feet
Then sigh happily that they’re alive
And smile, glad that I can still use salt.
Without the fear of dissolving my landlord’s tenants
And it being all my fault.
Night after night
I would hear heavy feet prance
In the room above
There was so much clomping and
Loud stamping and clobbering
That I’m pretty convinced
They’re teaching elephants
how to riverdance.
Because of cause elephants cannot naturally jump
So they teach them to dance
in an effort to (metaphorically) Thump
mother nature on the nose
And say ‘look at these elephants bouncing
Like pros.
You’ve seen Tigger spring about Winnie the Pooh,
But check out what these here elephants can do’
So that is my explanation to the noises upstairs
And I understand why it’s only at night because
To teach elephants in the daytime
Well, that would cause a whole lot of
Unnecessary affairs
And a lot of fuss
From the press
Who would publicise the classes to the world
And then elephants from everywhere
Would travel in their droves
With their hearts set on
Being able to one day skip and hop
And not have to sit down at the discos
Everytime they heard music for the jive or the bop
And the RSPCA would back it cause
They’d say it’s only fair
That elephants have the same opportunity to
Learn how to jump in the air.
And then there’d be a problem see because
There would be no space for all the elephants
To fit in a small, town house room
And expect to have space to river dance;
Well, what a stew!
So that’s why they hold the lessons at night,
In secret,
with a class of perhaps two,
Maybe three elephants at most.
And then they’re silent in the daytime because
Dancing wears you out
So they sleep until the night falls
And then they dance and prance about;
Very, very noisily
While those sleeping
And those trying to sleep below
Gradually doze off to the sounds of
The future elephant Michael Flatley
Upstairs practicing for their first dancing show.
Well, that’s one explanation
My alternative one is
That the flat above is home
To a nocturnal giant
Who likes to tap dance.
But that doesn’t seem quite as likely.
Written in October 2013.