friday cookout

it's Friday,
that means your neighbor
will be firing up his complicated
grill
and charring
meat out on his patio.
he'll put on his tall
white hat,
his apron, bring out
his long utensils,
the knife and fork,
a bottle of some secret
sauce. a slab of meat
lying on an enormous plate.
the smell and smoke
finds its way
through the creases
of your window
making your stomach
growl with hunger.
you shoveled their walk
this winter.
cleared it of snow,
and yet still no invite.