Next Door | Daniel Dowe
Kids selling magazines,
both from towns faraway,
on my front facing porch,
hanging back near the baskets
that I forgot to water.
They ask for my sponsorship,
so they can avoid profanity,
misdirection, a life of crime,
to instead do God’s appointed work:
selling magazines and enthusiasm,
with handshakes, large smiles and laughter,
to the cautious white dude,
who at least stepped out of his door to meet us,
probably sleepy from the loud tv,
wearing slippers and politeness.
He smiles but refuses our offer,
And we have to do this again,
in this weird, unknown town,
to another stranger,
who may not even answer the door,
but just looks briefly at us,
slightly bending the white mini-blind.
Dan Dowe lives in Windsor, Connecticut.