The Neighbors

they were on the front porch again,
smoking, as usual, glazed eyes,
as usual, nice boys, really.
music filtered out, the bass
reverberating against adjacent
houses, echoing in and out,
almost hard to tell where it
was coming from, like a hall
of mirrors, of sound.
one boy looked at his feet,
his whole body slumped at
the same angle as his cigarette.
Prayer flags flapped in the breeze,
a couple of dirty sleeping bags
spread out on the sofa on the porch.
the front door opened,
the music pushed two of us
away from the house,
down the street, seeking silence.

There was none to be found.

Photo courtesy of http://flickr.com/photos/23486686@N00/315708898/