Suburban, anonymous, pebble-dashed,
Pre-packaged-dream-house Neighbour of mine
I have not got a clue about you
What your name is
Where you hail from
To whom you belong
Whatever it is that you do
Though I am more than familiar
With the cursed electrical dirge of your shower
That moans through brick and cement in between us
Every workaday morning of winter
In the draught-ridden dark before dawn
And I have come to forgive you your musical taste
In the best left unsung
For mine is as poor
While Sepultura rock out of your Pod
Tiffany herself goes on soiling my Zen
And Neighbour, I must confess
That when I’m out in the yard for a smoke
I sometimes peer over your fence
And spy through your blinds
How the grey outlines glide from table to couch!
Such mystery! Such grace!
Like a swan in the mists of a moor!
Like a deer in a twilit oak wood!
So, Neighbour of mine
Fellow drudge, fellow drone
Fellow white-collar bee in a dormitory town
You who snore and make love,
Gobble and belch, stain and wash up, as I do,
In the same white-washed,
Ten by eight rooms,
Moving through time to destination unknown
Do you ever wonder
When your back’s against the wall
That mine might be too?
Yes, that mine will be too…