Thursday, December 14, 2006

They're on the lower level, Pac-man.


The ghosts downstairs


Laugh, and play music they like


I imagine


They dance together when the beat sweeps nice


Their silverware


Clinks, hitting glass in a sudsy sink


I'd bet they hear


When I walk, and the floorboards creek


Or when we're drunk




Clanging cymbals, pranging guitar, banging drums, clattering clamoring around




They will have friends


Over sometimes, you'll hear a different laugh


It can be nice


Like their company is ours up here


It's almost like


We're family; living in this building


Yes it's silly


But it's sometimes like that

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