he’s up again

roaming through halls

closing the bathroom door that squeaks

taking a shower at two in the morning

he’s up again

his feet drag on carpet outside my door

walking quickly up and down the staircase as trains go by and cop cars sound off with blue and red lights flashing in my windows

refrigerator hums

the door downstairs opens and closes as he lights up cigarettes on the patio and sucks them down one after another like he can’t get enough

and a wooden gate blows in the wind

my lamp is on and I see dust all over floors which have not been swept all winter long

the man is coughing downstairs

he’s having a fit

an ambulance goes by followed by another cop car

where is everyone going it’s two in the morning

are we waking in this hour for our deaths

he’s up again

I hear him running water in the kitchen

maybe he’s putting on a pot of tea

maybe he’s washing his hands

perhaps they’re dirty from a job he’s done in his room

his name’s Raphael and his soul hasn’t been cleansed in years

he’s up again

he’s up again

he’s up again