I take a walk around the neighborhood
As you can see in these pages
Privileged suburbanite
Mortgage and a paid-up car
Kids all grown and a grandchild or two
Long long marriage of childhood sweethearts
Still a smile of fondness occasionally
You can see here the weather
When I have nothing to talk about
Except the spattering on magnolia leaves
Beyond the curtains in the Japanese fashion
Not that leaves are nothing or rain
And though one poem butts up against another
You can count the days between uploads
When I’m busy with tasks not unpleasant
Like coaxing a three year-old unwillingly to sleep
You can see the seasons
When butterflies embrace the wealth of flowers
When flowers open an invitation
To the generous pollinators
Or when on blustery days the naked branches
Score and stab the white sky

There’s this one guy I often encounter
I cock twice the right hand’s thumb fore- and long fingers
Pinky and ring slightly tucked
And murmur a hiya
And he rolls his eyes away hard northwest
Or deigns a rapid eye-contact
Frowns and nods quickly once
What message does he send me
That haply I invade his privacy
Out here on the public pavement
I have disrupted him
We both are walking here
Nor headed toward a definitive destination
I have no promises to keep
And yet I should respect his solitude he seems to say
His remote and unpublished agenda
Seemingly similar to my own
Though mine might be looser than most
Perhaps he harbors some pain
He dare not articulate
But I don’t know do I
And I feel treated unfairly
Targeted for disapproval
Author of no misdeed known to me
And thus I compound the injustice
By castigating self-centered myself
For self-centeredness
And I want to retort
You’re not alone like or not

And therefore people should offer the blessing
Of a good morning afternoon or evening
A gesture toward clearing
The toxic fog of misunderstanding
For fleeting are our days
Let them not be sullied
By glowering countenance
And gladly if rarely
Cometh the spirit of delight