Long Island Lull-a-bye

Long Island Lull-a-bye

I have
a horror of suburbs.
Of white frame
Early American houses
with black iron eagles over the door
and ponderous dark elms
shadowing the chain anchor-fenced,
closely trimmed lawns.
Of radios and TVs
on, but unheard.
Of daughters and sons-in-law
with hyperactive children.
Of the din unending.
Of touches unfelt.
Of looks unseen.
Of deadened perceptions
dulled by desperation
for closeness
that prevents contact.