Infinite Monkey

write to know.

And Sometimes Late at Night

with 2 comments

she stomps late at nightShe clips

and she clops

she bangs

and she stomps

my neighbor, next door

But just in the morning . . .

and sometimes late at night

(when she’s most important)

or more importantly, when I’m adrift

wading through a dream or semi-wakeful state,

groggily numbed by the washed out sounds

of my white noise machine

From the living room, once,

I could hear her importance

Following her from her bedroom

to her kitchen

and to then to the living room

where I heard

the authoritative slam of her front door

the clomping, half-jog down the sidewalk

past my front window,

’round the corner,

past my side window

and to the trash cans,

outside, my kitchen window

where she handled a plastic trash can lid

with the cacophony

usually reserved for

for a judge’s gavel,

the powerful gong, of a call for attention

I never noticed the cadence

of her ka-lump,

back, when he lived there

but its resonant sound

can be felt


almost daily

she dashes around, more

in and out of the house

slamming the door, as she exits

Feeling the quake

in her heels

(no doubt)

as she bounces along on her way

And I wonder why now, with less people around,

there is more noise than ever before?

Was she made to feel small

taking no space

and no sound for herself at all?

Or does her trademark


Bring comfort in each stride

at a sound much less lonely

than silence?

What I choose to believe

IS that she’s reclaiming her self

spreading out,

owning her space

and relishing in the

echo of sounds

made by her feet on the ground

and the mark

she will make on the world


she might be lonely,

or simply feeling free,

or maybe just running late

But I prefer to see her

in my mind

as the girl

who has shifted to woman

who will not sit quiet

(in the background)

of her own soundtrack

she will make herself known


(like the clomping of feet)

speak of her mind,

and lay down the tracks

of her lifetime

I hope when a new “one” moves in

that I will still hear her stomp

In the morning . . .

and sometimes late at night


Written by Rainee Squatch

September 28, 2015 at 1:39 pm

2 Responses

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  1. I’ve been trying to “like” this since yesterday, but for some reason WordPress isn’t registering it. 

    Todd M. Anthony

    September 29, 2015 at 6:00 am

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