Local War Four

Sheila panics on the threshold
A plea in those Irish eyes
Her words vibrating and shrill
But enough to make it through tinnitus
She just can't seem to shake the feud
Or disregard those hysterical threats
Hurled by the certifiable one next door
"It's that fucking Franco again!" Sheila shrieks
"Him and his bitch at full volume
Driving Nine Inch Nails into my brain
And I, as you see, have gone insane"
Or words to that effect
Impossible to ignore at high noon
Franco's proving to be a predator
A threat to this property's peace of mind
His assurances of Hell's Angels connections
And ongoing gang affiliations
Give one pause:
Are they real or illusory?
Probably just symptoms of rabid thinking
But measures to be taken
Yet to be determined
A crossfire to be considered on a Friday afternoon.