I'm on the board

i'm on the board
she tells me, as I unload
a loud clanging set
of extension ladders
from my truck.
where are you working
today?
i'm on the board and I need
to know
whose house
are you working on.
I live here, I tell her.
she's hanging red felt
ribbons for the holidays
around the gas lamp
poles, tying them with
plastic snaps,
that she herself thought
of and bought
at her own expense. they wanted
me to do it with string,
but that doesn't work.
there are ninety-seven such
poles throughout the small
neighbor hood.
her hands are red
and already blistered.
she's not merry one bit.
you live here? she says
again, climbing up
the step ladder
and tying another ribbon
into place.
how come I've never seen
you before?
I don't know I tell her,
carrying each ladder around
back to my gated yard.
I hope you're putting those in
your yard and not on
community property. right?
she stares at me, waiting
for an answer. I carry
the ladders around. each one
longer and more heavier
than the other.
she waits for me. are they in
the yard, she asks. yes.
I tell her. yes.
oh, and by the way, are you
the fellow who keeps putting
his trash out early?
we've had several complaints
from Becky, your neighbor.
We have rules here.
there are things I want to say
to her. mean things,
unholiday type things, but
I decide to just smile, go
home, close the door.
it's been a long day.