The neighbor talks to me as she tends her vegetable garden –
she talks at me is more like it; I hardly get a word in, you see.
She says, “All Lives Matter;” I bite my tongue,
let her ramble, not knowing what’s bouncing in that brain.
The people in this apartment complex are so nice!
They smile, ask how I’m doing
I can tell they mean it by their bright eyes,
gentle body language, the way they speak of
this complex as a community.
But why does it seem so strange?
Behind these pearly-white smiles,
are they planning my demise?
Where do those neighbors get their money?
They’re up late on weeknights, drinking beer,
playing games in the street – the young woman
has glazed eyes, she’s always stoned;
the boyfriend doesn’t have a care
in the world, in a world
where so many are dying
and a feeling of impending doom
clutches us by the throat.
(Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash)