Nov 17 09: Neighbors

November 17, 2009 § 8 Comments

Today’s Poetic Asides two for one prompt was to write about implosions or explosions or both.  (A sweet example of the “two themes in one” is here.) An image came – puffs of air coming out of front doors – the exhalation of family drama. (Hmm. Now that I write it, I’m taken with it all over again.) But the poem took off in a different direction, so here’s one not about the prompt. (I’m not pleased with this, but I’m still hitting the wall. )

Neighbors

Yesterday two thin young men with shouts and laughs
pushed a vintage motorbike into my neighbor’s garage.

She is tall and blond. Their wiry strangeness
combined with her confuses me.

And an elderly couple in the next block has moved on.

I bought remnants of their history from their yard –
an army trunk, green mittens and an old cassette.

Now babies are two doors down, and toddlers
with motorized cars and rangy teens with skateboards.

My lawn is the flytrap, capturing candy wrappers,
cigarette butts, and damaged toys.

One car sits on the right side of my drive,
away from the droppings of the mockingbird.

I leave room for my daughter and an occasional beau.

I wonder if the neighbors watch me as I watch them,
seeing the comings and goings, the breathing of the neighborhood.

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§ 8 Responses to Nov 17 09: Neighbors

  • Neil Reid says:

    Sorry, I’m running behind. Catching up. This is a very interesting poem Pamela.

    From, “My lawn is the flytrap, capturing candy wrappers, cigarette butts, and damaged toys.” (and I adore those two lines) this takes off like a skyrocket does! Well, maybe leave out the flames, but provocative. One glance in this poem says, suggests, so very much. It is a delight to be awash in the possibilities!

    And curious, just precisely what were you less pleased about?

  • G says:

    Interesting take on a slice of small town life.

  • mary says:

    Hey. You live on my street. How ’bout those neighbors whose patriarch just came back from rehab or Time and now the garage is always up again, motorcyles in & out constantly, skateboards and candy wrappers and wandering cats. I wanted a quiet life, but I don’t want to be the neighborhood ogre through the slats either.

    Thanks for the capture. Well done.

  • Linda says:

    Thank you for letting me look out your window with you. It’s funny to think that we’re all “spying” on each other.

  • I think most neighborhoods are the same, I can certainly see my neighbors in your writing, and through my blinds too!

  • barbara_y says:

    Thanks for the kind mention.
    Your neighborhood sounds very much like mine. Austin, Nashville, sure.

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