april 4 . the neighbors moving out

it's so bizarre, how
one day i am listening to them
bang against the wall and
laugh raucously at 2am;
and the next,
the Budget truck is stuffed full
of dining chairs and
paperbacks, battered pillows
and floor lamps;
the window's naked again,
finally,
and the carpet can breathe,
though it coughs,
for the dust;
the walls can expand
and the fridge can chortle
without being smacked
for acting out.
the dwelling place
my neighbors left
is rising up in exaltation,
free at last,
free at last.
until the next ones come
parading in,
pretending this space
belongs to them.