board
that patrols the neighborhood
have uniforms
now.
brown shirts with
red arm
bands.
they have hats too
with
shiny brims.
i hear them marching
in lockstep
down the cul de sac
early in
the morning,
with clipboards in hand,
their boots stamping
towards me,
i've put the trash out too
early and have
painted my front door
the wrong color once
again.
my rose bush has died.
springtime will be grim.
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