Although my colleague enjoys cooking,
he eats out to be in earshot of fellow diners.
Our dinner guests bring sunflowers, compliments,
neighborhood updates, and leave the table promptly.
My monthly lunch friends circulate photos of grandkids.
We admire our birthday cards as we await our orders.
I walk the neighborhood when the lights come on.
Twenty years and I still look for signs of life.
I am drawn to the un-shuttered homes with doors ajar
and visit with porch cats, emissaries from within.
My daughter says I need some friends.