Saturday, April 9, 2022

Tell Me You're XXXX, Without Telling Me You're XXXX. Couldn't Help But Put My Nosy Neighbor Hat On While Writing From My Front Porch

I loved this #VERSELOVE challenge. Simply write about who or what you are without writing who or what you are....it's all in the description. It took me a wee-bit, but then the normal a.m. routine of kids going to school, mom's walking, and people leaving for work simply allowed me to write what I see (and speculate) every day. 

It feels so good to return to the front porch where it's warm again and I can drink coffee, think, write, observe, and wonder who all these people are and what they're about. I'm not sure Karal likes the return...although she loves my shoulders to sleep on as she, too, keeps an eye on the neighborhood.

From the Way I See It

~b.r.crandall


He’s outgrown his pants,

this blonde, middle-school

pixie-stick boy 

wearing coke-bottled glasses,

running to and from bells,

from the hefty-cinch-sak bullies

who nip and claw

at his ankles - 

the ones always exposed

as the waters run high.


At the pink house,

behind the neglect of kudzu and rot,

I’m pretty sure 

he’s widowed now,

alone, and confused.

His car leaves for long hours, 

and sometimes

raccoons leave the 2nd floor

window, the one where

garbage bags replace glass panes,

and carpenter bees

have gutted 

panels.


I can’t help chirping circus music

as she walks by, this mini-Pinscher 

of a woman in Reeboks, 

who windmills  her arms

as if she always needs to pee.


I see they’re selling now.

Probably Covid - too much for them,

their anxious home of toddlers,

Gulf War, I’m guessing, PTSD -

the American flags.

A smile has been replaced with nerves,

paranoia, Uber eats, & 

Amazon diapers.


Their boy plays outside, sometimes,

unlocking an imagination with rubber boots

and wiffleball bats. I’m amazed by 

how quickly he becomes a dinosaur

before his papa asks, Weh yuh den Pon?

after a day of delivering mail.

Several women in Kente cloth

scurry to Godzilla to bring him back inside.


Her littlest duckling 

is a quacking brat, 

one that squawks squeamishly 

as they waddle along

the sidewalk,

following the older duck 

who skips with a doll.

Mama needs

more Vodka for that one - 

that’s for sure..


Chodź mi pomóc! 

Chodź mi pomóc!

she screams from 

her home of pierogis,

Gołąbk, and 

Placki Ziemniaczane,

Mój mąż upad!

Mój mąż upad!

The son and

his partner

only visit when 

they can - 

too much real-estate

in a big apple

to sell.


He might be 16,

but they bought him a Mustang, anyway,

and no one is sure where his 

mother is. Grandpa’s bark 

outdoes all the other 

neighborhood dogs.


And the birds,

those fucking birds

are having 

sex again —

only the few

get morning worms.