Stovetop corn pops like bubble wrap in the kitchen
Papa clips his toenails in the dining room
While Mama yells at him
From the bathroom
Sister cries in the bedroom
Wanting more Tums
Claiming they taste like tropical fruit
To Mama
Who's now in the dining room yelling at Papa
Who moved to the bathroom
The windows are all open, but the fireflies dare not come in
For the lights blazing throughout the house
Will diminish their flame
Crickets sing in the windowsills
With their usual hustle and bustle
And Papa and Mama pull back the cotton white sheets, fresh from the dryer
The night is hot
But we still drink hot bitter tea
And I sit in my room
Listening to the sounds
Of others