Envelopes slip past my door’s crack,

written on the back of each, Amelia Jane Hendricks.

I peek through drapes that are the same hue of my hair.

A young man walks away from my property,

He is a headless chicken.

Similar to my first husband, he doesn’t look back.

The mahogany floors in the entryway can almost go unnoticed,

It’s as if Hansel stopped by and treated envelopes like bread crumbs.

My house is a zoo for feelings;

I am the lone wolf.

I turn away from the window.

I am rapunzel,

Only a watcher.

I flick my cigarette with my index and middle finger,

the ashes are anchors, 

the ashtray is the sand.

Flecks of pollution fill the ocean,

My lungs hack up a storm.

I am a cat with a hairball.