I stood at the top of the driveway
Motionless not to disturb
The cat that roams freely on the cul-de-sac
Slim and spotted like a dairy cow
It gazed up at the neighbors’ shrubs
At the little flock of birds busying themselves therein
I proceeded toward my morning walk
A few feet aloof the cat looked toward me
And a few more feet and another look back
Three times the cat moved and looked
Before trotting toward another homestead
Making a judgment
Threat or no threat
Better move on just to be sure

I’ve lived in the suburbs all my life
At least that part that I remember
Where houses look out over lawns
Gently rolling if in Georgia or Alabama
If in Florida flat
Most of the residents fight the good fight
To impose a lawn
On these forested regions

I was proud of my parents
Intellectuals though they denied that fact
My father identified as a technocrat
A professor of science at the college
My mother worked in health care
Though only after a decade
The formative one for me
During which she identified as a housewife
It was an event when we acquired
When I was very young a television set
And it was a great change
When a second car crowded the driveway
I did not know that we were middle class

Sometimes we would journey
To visit the grandmothers
Who lived as we did in houses with lawns
Though I later learned that my father’s family
Was of the haute bourgeoisie
While my mother’s stayed closer
To their agrarian roots
One uncle raised hogs
On a compound carved out of the palmettos

So no doubt I should have known
Once in a while some politician
Would say middle class on TV
And if it applies to everybody
It doesn’t apply especially to me
Once in a while we would drive downtown
To buy shoes for school
Or a lantern for a camping trip
And I would see the multi-family dwellings there
Where residents used the porch in summer
Once I saw a mother nursing her baby
I think I was the only one
Since no other passenger
Registered the shock
I’m still amazed that I kept it to myself

When I returned home I found a catkin
Blown off a Japanese maple
Never to become a flower
Perfect little mammal’s part
Rabbit’s foot or furry phalanx
And I saw the blackbirds
Massing for departure
Twittering in shrubs and trees
Chevrons on their sleeves