"Go wee wee wee!"
She encourages her small poodle to urinate each morning in front of my air conditioner intake.
His feral daughter is delighted to jump from available heights, for instance the back
of the living room sofa, distributing 80-pound explosions across the floor we share.
He paces in front of my opened french doors, cigarette smoke billowing into my apartment,
arguing heatedly into a wireless phone which disrupts my computer network.
Their barbeque divides its smoke equally between their beef and my living room. They
leave it smoldering from sunset till midnight, every evening.
She stands below my bedroom window at 4am, shouting goodbyes into the street.
