I am leaving this neighborhood
of shaded streets and well-kept lawns,
obedient dogs, disciplined hedges,
constant home improvement,
and cars washed every weekend.
I am leaving this neighborhood
that decorates itself each holiday,
where ladders are shared, scouts
knock selling magazines and candy bars,
and every little girl’s a Brownie.
I am leaving just after the school bus has stopped
and the ChemLawn man has come,
just before the mail arrives
while the widower across the street
bends in his front yard puttering.
I am leaving this neighborhood
where behind each door people talk politely
of high-school football or the garden club,
and where, unless in a play,
no one falls out of love with anyone.
I am leaving this street of black squirrels
and birds at feeders, joggers and rollerbladers,
where my neighbor will shovel my walk
if he gets up before I do,
and bikes left out all night are safe.
I am leaving this neighborhood
where I never thought I’d come to live
and now cannot imagine leaving
because behind my door, off-stage, someone
has fallen in and out of love.