poem of the day 05.06.11

poem to the whore
who lives upstairs

i’m sure
the fighting
at five in the morning
gets you
and the boyfriend off
it must
because when you two fuck
it only lasts for a minute
but this morning’s
verbal battle royal
lasted nearly
an hour and a half
and listening
to you two go
while taking
my morning piss
gave me a little smile
who knew
such language could come
from such
a privileged
little slut
you must’ve
felt like a minx
stomping around
the apartment
dropping
fuck bombs
while the scholar
that you let crawl
between your legs
kept calling you
a bitch
it’s waking up
to mornings like these
that make me realize
how truly great
america really is
but one word
to the wise, kiddos
keep the arguing
to the middle of the day
or maybe
take it up the street
stick to the fucking
and stay silent
for goodness sake
because this old man
down below you
is trying to compose
word symphonies
in the morning
and if i hear either of you
again
before the sun breaks
in the ugly sky
i’m coming up there
with a broom stick
and bottle
of scotch
and the three of us
are going to have
the kind
of ménage tois
that you only hear about
in tall tales
and in someone’s
fucked up
fantasies.