One Told The Other A Lie
Like a flower she tells me a lie
robbing me of carbon dioxide.
The driveway has no imagination.
The freshly manicured lawn sighs.
For some reason or other
I always believe her lies.
A pile of dirty laundry
drags itself to the washer like Christ.
The neighbor in Hawaiian shirt
and khaki shorts
scratches his bald head
against the sun’s reptilian rays.
(The poem is begging the observer
to visualize this couple which has
resolved to pursue the status quo,
the liar and the liaree apparently
content to keep going along. Their
lives against the backdrop or shall
we say the foreground where the man
who takes pride in his garden remains
oblivious to what prevails around
him. The couple who could one day
surprise the neighborhood with a
gunshot or two or the very same
couple could grow old like this for
the rest of their lives. The poem
does not tell us.)