My neighbor is so sweet.
She’s is 65 and widowed.
Every time I pass her property I catch a whiff of ozone.
Like when I was a kid and I’d turn on the TV and run my
fingers across the thick layer of static on the screen.
Know what I mean? Last time I saw her she smiled at
me from across the street. I could see her mouthing a word
with exaggerated display. She was either saying
“raw” or “rot” or “Your fingers are nice and skinny. Your shadow sweeps the cigarette butts into the drain pipes in this neighborhood. Your skin is pulled too tight for words to creep out of your parched, cracking lips.”
but it was hard to tell which.