Float on

If you have never had men float past your window, you don't know what you're missing.

These are no hallucinations, but the real thing. The never-ending construction on my building means that I experience this quite often. And this would have been a touching tribute to all their hard work...if they hadn't started hammering quite earlier than usual the other day, waking me up. I want them to be gone so I can miss them already.

If I look out of my huge window, and see the hanging ropes start to shake, I know the visitors will soon appear. I rush to close my blinds, in anticipation. Sometimes they stop right in front of my window; other times the keep gliding up to visit one of my neighbors.

If a song that I love from back in the day comes on the radio, then they are likely to show up with a drill and drown it out.

But then again, they also just as likely to entertain me.
Once, I heard a harrowing tale of someone who traveled through Mexico, and Arizona, being chased by la migra (that's immigration, y'all). And another morning, outside my window there was a deep voice singing, "¡Qué bonito! ¡Qué bonito!" Ah...my first serenata (serenade). Although I enjoyed the serenade, we really don't like the same music. Their radio is tuned into the all ranchera station, while I prefer salsa, merengue, bachata and Latin pop.

Even as I write this, the ropes are shaking.
But today they have passed me by, moving up to higher heights.