Yesterday the gas bill came.
Last night I put up storm windows --
three, if I count the bathroom
where the glass doesn't fit
and only leans against the frame.
I'm mending a pair of pants
and since I'm just sitting and sewing
I call my neighbor who tells me,
as if I didn't know,
that he's hibernating.
He says the cold makes him want to hunker down
until he feels like a piece of dust.
He laughs, says I'm just babbling.
I say I like your babbling.
He snorts Get a life,
laughs again and loud.
I say I've got a life, thank you.
He says I haven't had a laugh like that in weeks.
-- Lori Wilson
Lori Wilson's new book, House Where a Woman, from which this poem is taken, was published by Autumn House Press. She'll read Thu., Dec. 18, at Your Inner Vagabond Coffeehouse, in Lawrenceville. Many writers featured in Chapter & Verse are guests of Prosody, produced by Jan Beatty and Ellen Wadey. Prosody airs every Tuesday at 7 p.m. on independent radio, WYEP 91.3 FM.