michael row your boat ashore

the neighbors are out.

singing on their front stoop.
their new age books
on their laps.

he has a guitar,

she's banging on a bongo drum
of some
sort.

Michael row the boat ashore.

we wave as I carry my groceries
in.

come out and join us, my friend,
they say.

sipping wine, toasting their
glasses

in the air. let's get
to know one
another.

okay, I tell them, maybe later,
but then
I go in,

lock the doors and pull
down the
blinds.