next door’s noise is rolling in while they move out.
door-slamming conversation doesn’t slow the church bells striding from street’s end, blunt-axing through neurotic wailing car alarms.
decisive click-click-clicks of next door’s switches fire at will, kill all but this headache, wondering if it’s early for red wine or just too late to stop
the noise.
on the path, beside the furrow ploughed by motorbikes last night,
a random concrete slab is resting.
i count finite tap-tap-taps of rain.
forget me now 
I relate to this poem completely. Apartment living is not for sissies. Walls are thin, and the opening of the sliding door of my neighbor sounds like my own door being opened my ghosts. I always turn to look. I want to make a pact with everyone. I won’t force you to listen to my music if you don’t force me to listen to yours. New Years eve I was alone, but within hearing of so many parties. Sometimes I wonder if there is really any true silence in the world anymore. The deaf will Harumph at that, as well they should.
yes, a lighthearted look at the way we’re all crammed so close together, no matter what the living format, that there’s no space to just be … we’re all constantly interrupted or distracted …
i have to laugh about it else … lol
anyway, i’m glad you sort of enjoyed the read … Happy New Year, Annie!