ACROSS THE LINE

Next door.

Voices. Curtain shadows without faces.

Shirts and dresses in and out.

 

No smiles.

No eyes of contact. Front door images

jingle keys; a door opens.

 

Fallen branches. A yard of weeds.

Soda cans advertise litter.

Ten seasons of leaves.

 

Spirits without names. A porch without

numbers.

Never are they neighbors.

 

 

 

 

 

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