A front door slams.
A car door slams.
The street gate slams, too.
I hear a voice out in the street:
“What are you doing?”
And for a second I think that you might be addressing me.
Every two hours your van pulls in
and then it’s off again,
trafficking some mysterious thing I don’t believe in.
Windows and doors must be kept shut in warm weather,
for once you’ve let the heat get in, you won’t be rid of it.
A perfect day for drying clothes, I can’t be bothered.
Choosing my moment so carefully even to leave the house,
because it’s a battleground out there.
My pleasantries against yours.
My good morning versus your hello.
My smile versus yours.
And nobody wins.
But in my heart, my heart of hearts,
I love almost everyone I’ve ever known.
I would say I love almost everyone I’ve ever known.