In the Neighborhood
Pink sun. Pink Olympics.
Most still sleep, but not Cerberus,
more leash than teeth. This is
the golden hour for robed couples
to double dutch at least two of the
creatures on the ark, walking the
route from home-back-to-home.
A long way from shepherds and field
after field. Their staff an “f”
from the mind of a perverse calligrapher.
A stone gazebo sits dormant in
Provence lavender fields, the crow
lands gracefully on its chimney or
the power line.
*title lightly inspired by In the Neighborhood by Tom Waits. It’s a little early for Tom Waits though…
**poem inspired by a prompt from some colleagues to write about “the people who walk their multiple dogs before 6 a.m.” (it’s a real thing) and also “include the phrase ‘perverse calligrapher.’”