Join the Club; Don't Talk About the Club

I want thin walls

I want to hear flaw

I want to hear ugly

Loud and raucous and dissonant

Secrets screamed in apartment buildings

There are sounds that belong to

The women in robes seen at the mailboxes

With pleasant smiling faces

And kids peeking out from behind numbered doors, waiting

There are sounds that belong to

The men who lock their silver cars at night

Who offer waves and head nods 

And pleasantries of the civilized, of the acquaintance

Static speakers nearly breaking, playing

Louder than ever before

Because she's left him

And she's left him wanting to go deaf.

Shrill wives and gruff husbands

Raising hell about the bank account 

Or the kids

Or the mistress.

SEX. 

Family fights 

Waged so often

When the guests are gone

When painted faces are washed, masks removed.

Love, hate, misery, everything

I want to spy with my ears

I want to know you're all as 

Pitiful, as dirty, as hopeless as me