Royal Road slopes

enough so that your toes know

which way you are going.

     Kudzu and ragweed accent the driveway

pitted with bushel basket size

holes amid roaming plastic grocery bags.

     A 1960’s version mobile home

fights Mimosa and blackberry bush

to remain visible.

     As I ascend the creaking steps

a neighbor cracks the quiet

to announce that, “Jesse is on the way.”

     I hear the clop, swish, clop

as Jesse corners onto Royal Road

and chugs toward me.

     Sweat rivers from his beard.

He greets me with,

“Thanks for the groceries.”

     I said, "I need you to sign

to show I brought food."

I didn’t ask, “How did you lose your leg?”