My Unfriendly Neighbor

I have an unfriendly neighbor who
never says, “Fine,” to my “How do you do?”
Sometimes he answers by throwing a shoe.

He waters his sidewalk on cold winter days.
In summer he covers it with mayonnaise.
I prefer going less slippery ways.

His mouse-fur cap wiggles and squeaks
on the rare occasions that my neighbor speaks.
When I see it happen, I’m nervous for weeks.

My friends all agree it’s unusual that
he keeps a stingray instead of a welcome mat,
and instead of a doorbell the nose of a rat.

His house has vines all over each wall
with fingers that hang from the ends of them all.
One time they stole my best soccer ball!

His lawn used to be as green as farmland
until he replaced the grass with quicksand.
Now it’s light brown, and sort of bland.

Bees blow from the tail of the car that he drives.
These bees have stingers, but they feel like knives.
I run when he’s leaving, and when he arrives.

His chimney covered our street in thick smoke
the time his fireplace burned poison oak.
I saw him laugh as I scratched at his joke.

One Halloween I stood on the street
and screamed nervously at his house, “Trick or treat!”
He opened his door, and threw pickled pig’s feet!

I asked my Grandma for this advice…
“If I want to be friends, how can I break the ice?”
She said, “Oh sweetie. Not everyone’s nice.”