(Knock! Knock! Knock) Hello, You Don’t Know Me but I Live Downstairs…
 
My neighbor fancies himself
a musician—tempo beat…
If he performed in the street
I would throw him coins.
But how to transport a bed
to Harvard Square?

I play the fan and sleep
in my queen sized new sheets.
The parakeet knows no profane.
‘Tis a shame when a girl’s
got so many panties
and sexy books titled ‘How to…’

Save the world? Tomorrow!!!
Right now it’s drink, think, and sorrow
or find a way to borrow
a hell of a lot more than sugar.

© Coleen T. Houlihan