The Builders

They come early
the builders next door
make a God awful noise for half an hour
and then it all goes quiet while they drink coffee
talking excitedly in three different languages
discussing the game last night

It's just long enough
for me to drift back to sleep
before hell unwinds again
when they begin their hammering,
drilling and sawing in earnest
a frenzy of making up for lost time

They use fancy machines
some I don't even know the names of
but always they specialize in noise
and the dust that gets sucked up on the wind
blows over everything

I taste it
while lunch vibrates on my plate
even the portable toilet they installed on site
has a fine coating of white
so the scene has a shitty Xmas card feel
celebrating hell

But worst of all is the music
cranked to to the max
so everyone shouts to be heard
the tinniest plink-plink with strangulated bass
bleating nameless undecipherable dross
distortion chattering woefully to itself
between lulls in the business of work
worming its way into pores
as blase as arsenic
poisoning basic thought

The boss drives a tired brown truck
with noteworthy battle scars
and two fat furry dice swinging in the cab
At last the boys are jumping up to go home
where they'll wash
sit down to dinner with their wives
try to laugh and become human again
for a few hours at least

They wave to me on the street
as peace and quiet is restored
but I can't find it in myself
to see the favor returned
because I know for sure in the morning
they'll be back