walking about with their clipboards.
it's that time of year again.
a group of four.
all women, retired and widowed.
the president, the vice president
the treasurer
and the other one, who tags
along taking notes.
they cluck like chickens as they
point at gutters and shutters,
yards and doors.
they move as one dark cloud.
no one gets out
without a reprimand.
who said you could put a flower
pot
in your window?
why is your dog barking.
did you change the locks
on your door without written
approval?
this is your last chance
before we fine you. and there
is no more.
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