Jacob Lawrence, Hot Summer's Night (1947)
Mark's Pages
August 26, 2004:
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"Go wee wee wee!"
She encourages her small poodle to urinate each morning in front of my air conditioner intake.
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His feral daughter is delighted to jump from available heights, for instance the back
of the living room sofa, distributing 80-pound explosions across the floor we share.
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He paces in front of my opened french doors, cigarette smoke billowing into my apartment,
arguing heatedly into a wireless phone which disrupts my computer network.
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Their barbeque divides its smoke equally between their beef and my living room. They
leave it smoldering from sunset till midnight, every evening.
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She stands below my bedroom window at 4am, shouting goodbyes into the street.
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This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.