his newfound happiness

i never

see the neighbor anymore.

the divorced man

who moved in

a year ago

with a wife

and three teenage

children,

a dog

a cat, a lawnmower.

the grass

is high now,

the bushes untrimmed.

the garbage cans

are full

beside the garage.

he's disappeared

behind

his closed drapes,

i don't see him anymore.

but i see food deliveries.

Chinese,

pizza,

sandwiches from the deli.

beer

and liquor

in boxes.

sometimes women

arrive

in taxi cabs.

party girls

in sequined dresses

and big

hair.

i envy his newfound

happiness.