neighbor.

He lives in the lime-green painted house
hidden behind a soft forest
of peonies and clematis
overgrown and green and out of control.
Still he can be seen
on the hottest of summer days
with his long dark hair
peeking from beneath his straw hat
planting more trees, flowers, bushes.
His screen door slams occasionally
when his 3 daughters, 3 shades of blonde,
visit on Sunday afternoons
with grandchildren that stir up
that lifeless tire swing, hung years ago
with soft rope for his girls’ delicate skin.
Friendly he waves as he backs from his driveway,
music beating from behind
his truck’s rolled-up windows.
His dog roams aimlessly
through the foliage
and seems as lost as his owner.

Alone,
he just likes his own social solidarity.

Tags: neighbor, Poetry