the family who lives behind my house is having some problems.
some loud problems.
some problems they are making public.
i hear the words "hurt&sneak&liar&whore&asshole&kill&police".
i hear these words before noon.
the ones that come by nightfall are worse.
i've heard those words before.

i can guess the contents of their giant blue recycling bin.
i know why the newspapers are spread out on top.
thanks for being globally responsible.
please act locally.

they have a cat.
a white cat that i want to take.
not to replace my one that ran away
but i want to hold her.
and kiss her on the face and make sure nothing in her body is crushed.
eventually i'd go mad at the white hair all over my black couch.
but my couch is from ikea.
i can throw it in the wash every saturday for two years.
i love ikea.
i want that cat.
i wouldn't throw her at my cabinets.

they have a son.
about 16. maybe a bit older maybe not.
it's hard to tell these days.
he's seen me naked.
coincidentally.
not socially.
people in glass houses should wear robes.
i love my sliding glass wall, but sometimes forget to shut the drapes.
i've already given him more than i'm willing but wish i could take him away.
and the little girl i've see through the kitchen window too.
be careful of the broken glass.
be careful of that broken man.
is he your dad?

i want to bring her in my house and let her sleep as long as she would like.
i want to buy her something pink and let her spin in circles until she falls down.
every little girl deserves uninterrupted pink circles.

"get out", i want to tell the woman.
i don't care what you did. or what you need.
just leave.
tonight.
you don't know what you are doing to your son.
you don't know what you are teaching your daughter.

shut your windows.
my boy can hear you.
i don't want him to listen.

i don't want him to feel the way i feel.
i should be over this by now.

i thought i was.

everyone fights.

but not like this.