Poem: Neighborly

[jakebe]

What if you lived at the very end of the drive?
Would the shadows grow longer with the road
with the trees extending their knuckly reach
into previously safe open spaces,
crawling over shoulders and into laps,
forcing themselves into your perceptions
and breaking into all the secret lighted places?
Would all of the bumps and groans
become more frequent?
Would you have trouble making it
to the next door over
to trouble the neighbors for a cup of milk?
Or would you invite them all to tea
and wave to all the shifty imaginings
as if they went to your child's
grade school play?