Neighbors

Time for another piece from my writing folder–or in this case, notebook/memory.  I wrote this short poem sometime between 2006 and 2008 after my neighbor replaced their grass with pink yard gravel. It has stuck in my brain all these years because it speaks to my philosophical take that humans are human. People are going to people.

 

pebbles
Not my neighbor’s yard.

 

Neighbors

what if I am just another pebble that lay

          plain & ordinary & factory-made

to lay out on lawns where grass refuses to grow

what if there is nothing about me

                   my neighbor doesn’t know?

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