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.