One branch from a tall bush

waves at me from the edge of the window frame,

desperately, like someone’s trying

to carry it away.

The wind a constant whine

and clouds expectorate.

*

We are terrible:

in good weather,

we steal the crippled

neighbor’s lemons.

We take the ones that hang

over our driveway; certainly

the wheelchair-bound man

could not pick them if he tried,

and besides,

they are so small and fresh

and pungent.

*

Ting tong

chingle clatter

sing sob

rat-tat-ding.

*

We steel crippled lemons against

the mechanical man.

He clicks from the drive,

eyes wild for their

pungent breath.

Hang him sideways!

He does not deserve

their small,

terrible rinds.

*

The wind chimes next door

hate the wind.

It makes them dance and sing,

crazy, crazy.

*