The Neighbors As Time Persists
And the pity’s infected their whispers.
And the advice arrives in the mail.
No return addresses;
No self-revelations.
There are so many smiles,
I could wallpaper the sky.
I could trade introspection for consolation.
The carolers stopped singing
outside my door
in favor of mingling with a couple
who’ve inferred my reality.
I’ve passed by and only nodded
to their whispers drowned out
by keys in the locks.
Copyright © Victor Dixon | Year Posted 2011
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