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The neighbor's daughter


by Roberto C. Garcia


watches me mow my lawn

from her porch

three houses away,

& her mother

next to her

could be

day-dreaming.

 

Noon sun, like a restless master

on my back,

sweat doing more

than gleaming,

it's feral, my skin darkening.

 

Steadfast daughter, staring

hard at the evolution— 

brown flesh turning blacker,

she won't look away.

 

I stop to wipe my head,

peek over,

her mother gets up,

a face—like reproach,

 

puts a hand

on the daughter's shoulder,

both of them watch me

grasp the handle bar,

pull the cord

& finish off

my lawn.

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