The upstairs neighbor walks hard
on his heels at 1:56 in the morning —
perhaps there’s some club-footed ogre
above him, an infinite stomping regress
all the way up to God, thundering about
in a mood so that no one else can rest, either.
My name anagrams to “a man becomes.” I love movies and Kurt Vonnegut. I don’t understand how anagrams work.