About to Knock
Behind the busted clapboard shack
A sea of broken lawnmowers swam
In a pine-needle gulley.
A swarm of mopeds more abandoned
Than parked in the grassless yard,
Tarpapered windows
Kept the world at length.
The finance creditor stopped
His Buick Regal by the road,
Stepped perilously through
Thistle and briar bush toward
The stepless plywood porch.
In the sun nothing stirred.
Till he stood at the door,
An expensive steel contraption
With a teardrop window,
About to knock.
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