The Way Some People Laugh at Funerals

When he hasn’t come after me

after all and I’ve run all the way home

and he’s not given chase

I can’t help chuckling in the safety of my hallway

to imagine him his long sleeves and pants

Latex pulled tight as skin over his hands

towel on his head under his hat

bag like a workman’s slung over

one shoulder wondering how long

he crouched in the heat waiting for me

where the trees thickenat the ridge top

all dressed up and no one to do