Morning

Heavy boots stomp up the seemingly endless set of stairs outside my apartment.
The walls encase the sound waves of their voices in a perfect acoustic chamber as they shout over one another about women they might or might not have had.
They draw their hammers and pound heavy nails into mighty oaken lumber. I hear a stereo blasting the latest top forty country music just over the prolonged hum of a power drill.
This is my rooster crowing wildly
in the morning as I finally close my eyes to sleep.