By David Himmel

There’s far too much noise
and I can’t tell if it’s coming from the neighbors upstairs
or just the usual clanging in my head.
I don’t hear the clanging as often or as loudly as I used to.
I suppose that’s a good thing.

But right now, with the baby put down, the puppy mellow and asleep on the warm mountain of clean clothes on the couch, and the wife off visiting a friend, the familiar clanging is as loud as it once was.
And I feel like a bachelor.
That means now is the perfect time to clean.

I’ll write more in the morning.
I’ll write about those two decades ago
and those two cab rides I took last week.
Man oh my, what opposing views those drivers have.

What a wonderful world we live in to be surrounded by so many diverse opinions based on facts we’ve decided must be true lest our entire identities crumble under the weight of likely possibilities.
See? There’s that clanging.
At least it sounds more like a triangle than a cymbal.

Therapy can do wonderful things.
I used to quiet the clanging by ironing and cleaning my home.
But since I’ve learned to calm and collect with better ease,
I don’t find as much joy in the ironing and cleaning.

However, I do find joy when I feel that there’s far too much noise.
It’s an opportunity to take action
either by writing it down to iron it out
or to storm upstairs and remind the wankers of neighbors that
there’s a baby sleeping and it’d be nice if they would stop
kicking a soccer ball against a bass drum.

I assume that’s what they’re doing, anyway.