Poetry Poem

There is a friend that I have
or rather, a neighbor
not that a neighbor can’t be
a friend
as long as their dog doesn’t crap
in your yard, and they rake leaves
before they blow into your yard
and keep their grass cut
and don’t park vehicles on their lawn

And not that a friend can’t be
a neighbor
part of the good thing about friends
is that they go away
But it’s the returning and leaving again
that makes a friend
“Good fences make good neighbors.”

And this neighbor, a friend, that
has good kids, is a hard worker, has
less of the faults and compulsions
than many, and lets his wife
be in charge - because she does such a good job of it

Has one sinewy thread he follows
not to find the way out, but
in the darkness of dailyness
to the one end- unseen, unknown end:
to find the one end, driven
steady and purposefully, leaving
small stakes in the ground all along the way
tripping half blindly among the clutter of
home improvement projects,
second jobs, third shifts and overtime-
but holding to the thread,
wrapping an arm around to fight off
demons of complacency and rejection
with pen and paper

and whatever else is a lawn for unless you can park on it,
and the grass can wait until the kids get old enough to cut it,
all the while letting leaves blow naturally with the wind,
and dogs, well-
they always crap in somebody’s yard