Online Romance Neighbor
My neighbor is a playboy. I've got mental pictures of all
the things he's enjoyed and I find them all replaying in
my head when I hear the noises next door. I can hear him
through the thin sheetrock walls, so clever but motives
misguided. That's all I'd hold against this master of
words that are all wrapped up in flame. It's in the way
he responds to a lady's question he's a smooth operator
who works at the bank. I saw him last week when I cashed
those two cheques from my aunt in New Jersey. I've been
working as a bellboy. Each night there are two bags full
of chips I've destroyed and a video (a loaner, a rental
I'll return on Tuesday). I can hear Neighbor in the
hallway, accompanied by the thin voice of some girl it's
always a new one. My ear's to the wall to imagine her
hairstyle and choice of stockings. My neighbor doesn't
give me no joy, though it was surely worse when I was
unemployed... But then again I wonder what I would do if
Roy Horodner left The Chalet. I'm really not quite sure
how I would take it, his grand disappearance. My mind
draws a blank. What then would I hear on the sixteenth
floor but a passionless silence? I'm thinking of getting
a job as a teller. Maybe I'd sit next to him at the bank
and listen to what he says to all the ladies in line for
withdrawals.
