This poem is taken from PN Review 123, Volume 25 Number 1, September - October 1998.
Three PoemsNext Door Despised
Next door despised
your city. They would much prefer a town.
Your tree - they'd like a twig.
Your oil rig,
your salmon satin crown,
so can you cut it down and cut it down?
Next door began
a harsh campaign. They hired a ticket tout
to sell your oily tree,
your haddocky
crown for a well of drought,
and then they bricked it up and shut it out.
Next door perceived
an envelope was lying on your stoop
but no one wrote to them
so your silk hem
deserved their mushroom soup.
Next door made plans to follow you to group
therapy, pinch
your problems, change their characters and looks.
...
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