Windows
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the windows on the house next door are arranged diagonally, different 
sizes. they are designed to see out but they only see into our house, and 
the light they take is ours. at night there is light from their house, the 
front lit up blazing. i walk around sometimes in my room with little 
clothes on or none, with little awareness or none of where i am. i have 
two windows on their side of my house, i walk across them with little 
thought about who i am. i have never spoken to my neighbors.

when i think about who i am and who they are i get angry. i don't do that 
as much anymore, because soon they will be replaced by someone else and i 
will start over. i don't know if they have ever thought about me. i don't 
know if they even see me. when i walk by they don't appear to see me. when 
i walk by my window in no clothes it is probably the same. 

my new neighbors on the other side fled from new orleans. they drive 
expensive cars like the other new neighbors but they at least say hello on 
the way from their car to the house. i don't think about them much because 
i have no windows on their side of my house. i don't walk past them as i 
go to lie down in my bed and read. i don't think of them when i do this. 

there was a woman who worked next door taking care of the kids all day. 
when my old neighbors lived there. she was one in a series of many 
caretakers. i wonder if she had kids of her own or any windows. i think 
about her because i saw her more often than the biological parents and she 
was outside in situations other than: mowing the lawn, entering car, 
leaving car. sometimes i saw the biological mother on the bus from work 
and we talked. i never spoke to the woman who worked next door because she 
was busy being a mother and we were not expected to speak because she did 
not own the property or the children.