Transit and Tappit

The neighbors, again
Are fighting downstairs
In a foreign language
That nobody knows or cares.

The air vents are all connected
To each other behind the walls
So every sound and smell
Travels all through the small, cold halls.

The neighbors upstairs
Are being obnoxious all around
A few “thumps” on the ceiling
With a broomstick should quiet them down.

The next-door neighbors
Must have burnt something again,
“That’s the third time this week!” one said,
“Can we just order pizza, then?”

From near the end of the hall
Comes some screaming and a roar;
Either a T-Rex has ripped them to pieces
Or a couple’s watching a movie behind their door.

At the corner of Transit and Tappit,
An apartment building sits
It’s a home to many people
Even with its decaying bits.

If I really had the option,
I’d love to go away on a holiday
To the big bright lights
And huge hotels open night and day.

I’d love to relax in the Bahamas
Even for just one day,
But until I can raise the money,
The corner of Transit and Tappit is where I’ll stay.