He’s a Senior Playah

* make us famous

The sound coming through my thin apartment wall when my elderly neighbor is having sex oscillates between the raspy respiration of a dying pigeon and the gasping desperation of someone drowning in a river. The springs of his bed creak intermittently in pathetic little shrieks of lightly tested metal when some slight shift of position is attempted, and the varied hackings and cacklings arising from his paramours’ wrinkled lips slip through the ventilation shaft and echo like wicked laughter over my own solitary pillow.

It’s a brave new world that finds me awakened on a work night by the brief copulatory exertion next door. His ejaculation sounds more like he’s weeping than moaning in ecstasy, and as I face another cold and lonely night with envy and respect for an ancient Lothario, still I’m glad I’m not the one fucking that grandma.