stretched drums

the sound of drums
reverberated up basement stairs
and escaped from the French windows
so loud, but no refrain could be heard
an erratic beat,
it seemed in the neighborhood
that man on the streets curled his lips
and tapped on the door,
when the curtain parted,
he looked inside with incredulous looks
lips curling into a deep curve

but the boy inside rattled his cymbals
beat our brains inside our skulls,
wearing down our stretched skins
with his hammering sticks

"if he wished for our staccato applause,
he would be waiting forever"