to have a neighbor knock on your
door anymore.
no one
seems to want or need
anything.
and it's scary if they do,
as you edge
to the door, eye upon
the peephole.
i remember
Jennifer, the piano teacher
next door.
single like me, always
knocking
when the sun when down,
low on olive oil
or sugar.
brown or white,
just a third cup
full she'd say.
when i think about her,
i wonder
if there was something else
she really wanted,
or needed.
maybe i missed a chance
at dating her,
or something better,
something more.
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