The Sound of What’s Coming

I was woken by hammering from the apartment below mine, maybe muscly henchmen nailing parts of my skanky neighbor to the floor. If so, he won’t be going anywhere for a while, not even down the street to get beer and cigarettes. I’m not like him. I shower every day. I know jujitsu. I see things out of the corner of my eye – a man walking into Waffle House at 3 a.m. naked from the waist down; a baby with a swastika tattooed on his forehead. It’s good to have a record if any of this goes to court later.