How could anyone hate what we love and love what we hate?

In the laundry room last night, African drums mixed with the bump of shoes in a dryer. Then rap. Then Demi Lovato. We have new neighbors. Sisters downstairs who unhooked a subwoofer from their apartment and brought it to wash clothes. They sang and shook the walls, ate spaghetti over the washers and shoved their clean clothes into garbage bags.
Then today on the train every person was a bulging vein, so full of life; the hipster sucking his vapor cigarette; the nerdish woman thumbing a miniature Spanish dictionary; the couple in the back with their stereo on singing and no, woman with the cat shirt and socks, they don’t have good voices and no, no one else is amused.
I’m building a heart today. Chamber by chamber. Reading Bukowski while the loudest members of this world scream and are ignored.

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