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There’s a neighbor downstairs who sort of worries me.
When I moved in, he introduced himself as Robert.
He gets my name wrong whenever we see each other down in the parking lot.

I remember, though, and I’m not sure why,
that his name is Robert.

He washes his car every Saturday morning.
I’m standing on my patio,
and he’s whipping his car into a lather,
soap flying over his shoulder onto my dirty car.

He waves up at me,
tells me it’s a great day.
I watch him.
I imagine what a ball peen hammer could do to his windshield.
BEFORE THE RAZOR button ver 2

razor iconW.T. Pfefferle is the author of My Coolest Shirt (Word Works, 2015), The Meager Life and Modest Times of Pop Thorndale (NFSPS Press, 2007), and Poets on Place (Utah State University Press, 2005). His poems have appeared widely, in Antioch Review, Confrontation, Connecticut Review, Cortland Review, Cottonwood Magazine, Gargoyle, Georgetown Review, Greensboro Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Indiana Review, Kentucky Monthly, Mississippi Review, New Orleans Review, Nimrod, North American Review, Ohio Review, South Carolina Review, Virginia Quarterly Review, and elsewhere. He lives in Savannah.

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