Gossip

All the ‘neighbors’ I do not know,
wave hello to me now.
From lawn chairs settled in the shade
away from the road,
Sitting quietly in the shadows of their garages
Or under the shaded maples on their lawns,
Including the farmer yesterday, riding his tractor
on Hwy M or was it A,
acknowledging me with a
lift of his right hand on the steering wheel, as we passed
And he weaved around the bend into town.
Where word has spread:
neighborly talk,
gossip, we used to call it.
He’s the widow Goulet’s new boyfriend,
A widower himself I heard tell,
From the Carolinas someone else said.
Where now, I’ve become a lucky coin
shining and flipping on the
Voices of all the townsfolk.