Neighbours

It's as though
the house next door
is haunted
how ridiculous in this day
yet I've met the neighbours
on the other side
and across the road
have lived here
after all
six years.

There must be
someone there;
garbage is placed
beside the curb
voices sometimes
ghost the summer air
and miraculously
the lawn is always trim
the driveway shovelled.

Sheets sometimes
flap in the breeze
like frantic wraiths.
Perhaps words of greeting
stop shy and silent
on their tongues.

Perhaps they note
our garbage and cut grass
my wraithlike sheets
and snow-shovelled drive
and fear to meet
the ghosts
inhabiting my home.