What do I hope to find
When I stare out at my neighbors’ homes?
Their windows glow like lanterns
(blue from the t.v., yellow
From lamps or overhead bulbs).
I don’t want them to see me,
Stirred into reverie
By the way they play house: setting
The table, that woman washing
Dishes and laughing into the phone,
Concentration etched
Onto her brow. Or that boy and collie,
Racing in the front yard,
Basketball hoop like a mounted halo.
Nothing new here,
I know. But still I gaze at life
Behind glass, living
Dioramas, science projects.
Showing posts with label Amy Bennett. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amy Bennett. Show all posts
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)