"Boys on the Porch"
I'm heading for the front door
when the little old lady ghost
clucks at me and says,
"Not out there, dear."
"I need to go out," I say.
She twitches the curtain aside
just enough so that I can glimpse
my nephew and his boyfriend
necking on the porch.
"They wanted a chaperone,
so I'm keeping an eye on them,"
she explains. "Some boys that
they know from school had trouble,
and they don't want that. But they
don't need you walking in on them."
"Understood," I say. "Back door okay?
I really do need to pull the leaves
away from all the flowerbeds before
the tulip shoots get any taller."
"The back is fine," she says.
When I go outside, I can hear
the creak of the porch swing and
the faint sound of masculine laughter.
I take a rake from the shed and
start working on the flowerbeds.
Life is good.