Memories Snuck Through My Gate

I did a dodgy job of mending The backyard gate. Mellow memories still feel like gaping gallows, They perch like birds do on the fence And eat all the seasoned grapes. I thought reminiscing About tort predecisions Was an act that had distanced itself From my street. But those aches Of the past still hang around My back gate Like dog s**t on the lawn, Where's that darn rake? The grass hasn't been mowed in weeks And those nosy neighbors pretend To know me or what type of fertilizer I use Or what flowers are in bloom On my porch. Fake talk. Maybe it's time I picked up some nails From the hardware store and Mend those hinges.