though you hide in cars that pass me by
no acknowledgement to my waving hand.
Your garage door opens, automatically,
closes before you get out of your car,
before I can see you and know who you are.
I wonder if it’s because we are older now,
no children to get to know you through,or if this is the Twilight Neighborhoods of today
where no one knows, no one speaks, no one
sees the other. How do they get their mail?
I feel like a ghost walking a tiny dog
down the empty, quiet streets, my head tilted at the houses for signs of life. My lips
form the word, I whisper.. then shout, Boo!
