The Neighborhood

Come from the highway
up Millbury Street toward home

on a day that feels like
the end of a world

in the after-rain sunset.
On the sidewalk is

the woman I’m sure 
a sitcom would name “Cookie”

walking away from 
a pickup with flashers on:

walking in a long coat,
curly red hair full of handsome grey;

walking an Afghan hound,
leaving the disabled pickup behind

on her way to somewhere
else. Leaving what doesn’t work behind.

Taking her comfort with her,
like Cookie in a sitcom finale.