rings in mine and in theirs
jingles outside with knocks on opposite doors
and it’s not quite dark
not quite

the yellow lights are replaced with red ones
some blink and some are constant
the fan is blowing
and I can’t get clean

familiar noises have faded to the background
the clicks and hums and the swinging blinds
there are others nearby
I forget them until they stir
and then I remember I love them

sometimes I imagine destroying it all
flooding the place
would I float to the top to breathe the air
or would I hold firm to the post
and let me
2001