Public Broadcasting

Do you think our neighbors watch us
and think we are cute? Me standing here
with a glass of wine and you cooking chicken.

I imagine them sitting in chairs every night
at five-thirty, veging out to you and I,
visible in the yellow light of our kitchen window.

Every night is a new episode, that looks
strangely like every other, with different
wine glasses and brown rice in place of white.

When the wind blows horizontal rain
against the pane of their window,
I wonder if they get up and smack the screen.

And at six before we head for the dining room,
they watch us grab napkins and silverware
before switching the light from this room to the next.