Knocking Next Door

A series on the subject of weather with emphasis often placed on the impact it can have on mental health.

With thanks to Jeffrey Czum for use of the header image.

It was such a lovely summer
And then they started fucking
Yes, that’s right
You heard
Her from next door
Plus him two down
Both left by partners
Some time ago
(though they still see them when collecting
the kids or dropping them round)
It started great enough
Despite the blades being faux
Artificial turf placed over
The concrete set on
Real grass that once grew
As the common
More commonly do
Well, what I mean to say
They were both making
Improvements to the home
The pretence of grass not alone
Exactly the same BBQ
Even parasol
Uncanny coincidence of the
Cheapskate kind
Furniture and lighting too
Everything being done up all new
One plus one looking over the wall
(not that they needed to: view from
upstairs rear bedroom shows all you’d
ever need know)
Found too much common ground
On which to screw
Just not all the new
Gear for the garden together
Fake grass not greener but instead ditto
Seen by both as some sort of come on
That might just have gone completely
Unknown
But for a squeaky back gate
Giving away late
Night liaisons and dalliances
Giggles drifting loose and light
High on warm dark sky
A hot-air balloon to the bedroom
Once there that fucking mentioned before
Now . . .
They don’t care
Leave together by front doors with a
Hi, there!
Yeah
No need for gardens green
Plastic or actually
Too much ploughing of pastures new
Well, fresh to perspective
The gardening left
Somewhere on a cooling summer eve
Autumn beckoning
Lost in something two middle-aged
Divorcees call passion
His rolled up and now covered in rain
Along with the wood for the decking
He was meant to be making
And hers, while lain, is now
Covered in dog doo
The poor mutt left out there
Whimpering too
The grass might be faux
But not the poo
So sad but true
Only cared for appearances
Until ends got away again
Now back on track
When it comes to the sack
Not that one wants to speak ill
But still
I have to object
To looking at all that
Rubbish and crap
When sticking my head out
For a listen in

Grey Matter:

Thanks for reading 🙂

N. P. Ryan

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