Was it really

There was nothing louder and hotter
than our apartment on a June afternoon.
We slept on the floor for 6 weeks
on the floor for six weeks and flipped
through six channels and cooked tv
dinners on the stove.
There was nothing louder than the language
medley heard through paper thin walls
when my brother and I brushed our teeth in
the mirror I couldn’t reach.
Waking up with the mattress again deflated and
sweaty skin now pressed against the rubber ground
I was not home in a hot car but I was home
on a cat piss carpet.
Explain to me the difference.

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