david allen evans | neighbors

1 03 2010

Poetry Dispatch No. 315 | March 1, 2010


by David Allen Evans

They live alone

she with her wide hind
and bird face,
he with his hung belly
and crewcut.

They never talk
but keep busy.

Today they are
washing windows
(each window together)
she on the inside
he on the outside.
He squirts Windex
at her face:
she squirts Windex
at his face.

Now they are waving
to each other
with rags,

not smiling.

[from HEARTLAND II, Poets of the Midwest, 1975]