my neighbor is so drunk…

…she’s sweeping the courtyard in the middle of the night after a rain.

…she’s blasting cumbia as i’m going to bed, and it’s a soothing sound of childhood that stills me to sleep.

…she insists on giving me $20 to buy food for my dog who she believes is very hungry because i’m a vegetarian. she gets insulted when i refuse it.

…she tells me all the wrongs that have been done to and by her: all the men in her life who were terrible and are dead; her physical abuse of her daughter who won’t speak to her anymore; all of our other neighbors are “locos y chismosos” and they talk about me; the landlord refuses to fix the problems in her apartment; she is resolved to never be a wife again.

…she pulls me into her house and demands i read her diary and look through her old photographs. she makes me take $20 to feed my dog.

…she brought a 4-piece mariachi band into her 100 square foot living room at 10 o’clock at night, invited the neighbor’s children, and closed the door because of “vecinos chismosos.” the kids leave, and at like 2am, she suddenly kicks the band out calling them “pendejos.”

…she’s been singing along to latino rock remakes from the 50s/60s for several hours.

…she invites me to her wedding the following day -valentine’s day- at a local taqueria. she’s marrying a man i thought her nephew. she shows me her purple wedding dress. i write her a poetic note and buy her rum pastries instead of attending; she’s never forgiven me.

…her friends offer me a shot of tequila but she says, “no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” and tells them i won’t drink it because i’m a vegetarian.

…she sobs about her dead husband who she misses desperately and who abused her.

…she’s been day drinking with her friends and they continue well into the morning hours of the next day. most of them leave weeping and cursing throughout the night. i wake up at 5am to the last friend in her house who is trying to convince her to go to sleep and not go out. she accuses him of trying to assault her, and then she starts trashing her apartment. he leaves, calling her “loca.”

…she tries to stumble into my house, slurrily reminding me how much she loves colombians, and that i did not attend her wedding. when i tell her she’s too drunk to come in and she should go to sleep; she barks at me, “ssssh! callate! no seas chismosa,”, and totters down the stairs.

…she’s been outside banging on the door of her apartment at 1am for at least a half hour. someone’s passed out inside and she doesn’t have her keys.

…she hollers at me, “colombiana! divina! belleza! vacana!” as she dances cumbia in her doorway.

…she hasn’t left her house in a week.