If You Were My Neighbor

By Kolton Lindell

If you were my neighbor
you’d hear me handcuffed to the black keys of my piano
screaming notes as loud as i can, mired on an atoll of source material
feeling the vibes, taking it all in, smiling through it
listening to me roar
if you were my neighbor
if you were my neighbor
that tv would whisper all night
laughing ghosts abound in voice
negligent transistors consuming clouds of voltage
kept awake by poets and clowns and actors in ensemble
if you were my neighbor
if you were my neighbor
you’d hear it all come clean
like train engines crashing into each other
crashing ideas, crashing lives
hearing crashing people
if you were my neighbor
if you were my neighbor
you’d hear me talking out loud, real loud
conversations with a narrator who believes in nothing
ants trickling down the curb and into the storm drain
and then you’d hear it all go quiet
if you were my neighbor