Ruidosos

The men in the next room over’s voices
throb through the wall late into the night,
I begin to doze off, once, twice,
but each time am startled by a louder pulse of
their drone reverberating our shared boundary
that feels to be made of cardboard,
I clear my throat, if I can hear every creak
of frame and crack of dropped plug in fine
detail, the tap of something being placed
on the bedside table, the beep of the
AC being changed as if it is in my own room,
I figure it…