Warm Weather

 

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.