next door

what the hell Edward, i yell,

you drunk again?

it's a warm night in Hollywood,

and we're outside grabbing a cigarette,

me and my neighbor.

shut your mouth, he says,

i'm a neuropsychiatrist!

first of all, i tell him,

i don't know what that means,

second, if you tell me to shut up again,

i will kick you straight in the nuts!

damn it man, he says,

easy.

we laugh at each other,

and the dark.

the air seems freckled with tiny holes,

pockets of madness bursting all around.

get some sleep Ed, i tell him,

and he nods his head,

sure.

back inside,

i can hear him singing and crying next door,

and i try to get drunk.

what's funny is;

we don't talk when we're sober.