It is all so comforting to think of

The people wrapped up in their blankets

Cosseted in the street

Talking to the neighbours

Exchanging pleasantries

In the morning

Talking about the weather the flowers

And a bit more beside that night

Across the garden fence

 

Here he is

He who lives at no6

But spends a lot of time with her at no4

And here is she at no7

Two kids and one more on the way

No man or permanent lover of which to speak

She sees them coming now and closes the door

Or so she says

She’s got their number

And they have had hers

But neither uses it except

For alimony or financial support

 

Here is Mrs Olden at number 9

Whose husband was carried out last

Winter in a box

Poor soul

Although she looks years lighter

As he had clung on for so long

And for her that had proved too much

Here are the couple at no 13

Who are always angry

Angry with one another

Angry with the children

Angry with the world

She sometimes crying

Accusing each other of lying

Who is telling the truth?

One or neither

Nobody knows or can find out

They seem to have given up trying

Then there are they who live at no3

Mr and Mrs Tidy

Everything so pristine proud and neat

Flowers drive and hallway

Standing in a row

The car cleaned on Sunday

The driveway brushed and flushed

One day perhaps once a month

Not as much as him down the street

At no 43

Who regularly polishes and waxes

Every square inch

Of his ford mondeo

Chrome sparkles using a toothbrush

Here are the cats from number one

Who always do their number two’s

In the garden of someone else

Here is that mad dog who answers to the name

Fetch and constantly bark’s

And when you walk by jumps at the fence 

All prime fodder for the itching twitching tongues

Across the garden fence

At the unnumbered house

That just says

Dunmoanin at last