house across the street
it seems a ghost I know may be dying
once firmly grounded
has suddenly opened second story windows
red curtains flowing outward like fire
white doves waiting in the wings
I was sitting on the front porch
right across the street
rocking on the slider and sipping
arnold palmers and drawing
cigarette smoke to my lungs
at first a single entity easily escaped
but as time quietly passed
locusts hungrily congregated
wailing and screaming and extolling
forming their very own shadow
I watched dumbfoundedly
their storm drifting northwesterly
saying under my breath ‘good riddance’
knowing it was just a matter of time
before new neighbors rolled in
august two thousand eighteen
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