The day after they moved in next door, I baked cookies, my husband picked a few heirloom tomatoes from our garden, and we went to welcome them to the neighborhood. We knocked and the door was opened only enough for the woman who answered to block the view inside with her body.

“Hi! We’re your neighbors,” I said pointing to our little red house. “I’m Darla, this is my husband, Jay. We just wanted to drop these off to say welcome.”

“Who is it?” a man said from in the house.

“Neighbors,” she yelled back.

Plastering a very fake smile on her face, she accepted the cookies and tomatoes, saying, “Thanks so much. That was very thoughtful of you. I’m Angel.” A man’s head appeared above her shoulder. “This is my husband, Garrett. We’re still getting settled so I can’t invite you in for a tour…” Is that a thing? A tour?

My husband and I glanced at each other and away. “We didn’t come to visit, just to say welcome.”

Her husband gave me what one might call an intimate smile and said, “Very neighborly of you.”

Wifey must have heard the look because the sickly smile added dagger eyes when she snapped,“You’re in great shape. Do you work out?”

“Um, yes?” Rather random, but whatever.

“Figures,” she mumbled then continued with the brilliant albeit fake smile, “Well, we have to get back to it. I’m sure we’ll be great neighbors. We’re very quiet.”

“We are as well. Except I do like to play music and sing. Hopefully, we’re far enough away. Lilly and Matt never said anything anyway.” Lilly and Matt were the previous owners.

“I love music. Don’t I love music, Garrett?” He looked as confused as Jay and I felt. “As soon as we are settled in, we’ll have you over for a tour.” Again with the tour.

“Good luck,” I said as they closed the door and we headed across the lawn to our own home.

“We’re not going over there again,” my husband said.

“A little weird,” I replied. “But not as weird as Jill’s new neighbors."

“Emma and Jake?”

“I swear, Jake never blinks when he talks to you. And his eyes are such an icy blue I get chills every time he talks to me.”

“They seem like a nice family.”

“Hmph. And where did they come from? I mean, there was never a for sale sign, an open house or moving vans. One day the Davidsons lived in the big yellow house and the next, Emma, Jake, Alec and Lily Jones did.”

“I think your imagination is itching to write a new story,” Jay said kissing my forehead before opening the door for me.

“Maybe,” I replied, not convinced.

A few months later, Christmastime, Angel knocked on our door while I was at work.

“Hi, Jay. I just wanted to drop these off,” she handed him a box of chocolates. “We love these. They’re very expensive. So good. They’re Garrett and my favorites. Really expensive.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Jay, do you think you could give me, Darla’s cell phone number? I’d like to ask her a question.”

“Sure.”

A few minutes after Jay called to warn me, she called.

“Darla? This is Angel. Your neighbor.”

“Hi, Darla.”

“Sorry to bother you at work, but Jay said it would be okay to call you.”

“No problem. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask, have there ever been any robberies on the block? I don’t really know anyone on the street yet besides you to ask, but we think someone has been trying to break into our home.”

“Really? That’s scary. But no, there has never been a problem. I mean, we do live behind the police station…I would imagine most criminals would look for easier pickings…Plus, it’s not exactly millionaire’s row.”

“Well, someone tried to come in the garage.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that. The block has been a wonderful community for the nearly 30 years we’ve lived here. Have you contacted the police?”

“We don’t need the police! We know people.”

“Okay…”

“I got cameras installed all over the property. We’re close to catching them. We have some suspects.”

“Okay…” Her voice sounded like we were suspects.

“Well, we don’t know anyone so maybe you could let people know something’s going on.”

“Will do. Good luck. Bye.”

That night when I got home, they had “No trespassing signs” around the house. And I guess hidden cameras. And spotlights.

“Don’t be too friendly, Darla,” my husband said when I told him her story. “I don’t trust those people. Something’s off.”

“Yeah, well, I hadn’t planned on any double dates, don’t worry.”

Things were quiet for a few weeks – as they often are in winter. Then over a period of days in March, alternately Angel or Garrett were screaming at people who parked in front of their house to get away from there – regardless of the hour. We have a neighbor who trains people in his garage starting at 6 am and his first client of the day was parked across the street from Angel’s house at 5:45. She went out in her nightgown and screamed at him, “Who are you? What are you doing here? Get away from here!”

Another day it was some members of a Christian woman’s group meeting at the home of a long-time resident, Martha. “You can’t park there! Get away from my house!”

Then it was men from the town doing work on my curb. “I’m going to call the police!”

“Lady, the police are right over there,” the man said pointing to the cop on duty. She huffed and went inside.

The strangest was when Garett went banging on the door of the elderly couple across the street: Martha, 82 and John 84. “Stop following my wife! She saw you following her car! You better cut it out!”

John was taken aback (you think?). “I’m 84 years old, I can barely drive to the supermarket.”

“Huh. Well, you just stay away from my wife.”

At this point, we all figured they were probably some kind of certifiable paranoid and we decided together and separately to keep our distance.

The last incident involved Emma. She said, “Hi, Angel,” one day while walking by with her dog and Angel started screaming, “Who are you? I don’t know you! Don’t talk to me.”

Emma tried to remind her that they were neighbors, they’d met when they first moved in. But Angel wouldn’t stop screaming and flailing her arms, so Emma kept walking.

Maybe two days later, I got home from work and the street was full of police cars and neighbors. I parked and walked down the street to the crowd and saw that the police were leading Jake Jones out of his house, in hand cuffs.

Feeling vindicated in my earlier wariness, I asked my neighbor Jill what happened.

“Apparently, he got angry that Angel screamed at Emma. Snuck in their house last night and stabbed both her and Garrett multiple times in their bed. He must have thought the signs about cameras were a lie. The alarm company has a patch into their camera system and caught him entering and leaving on tape.

“They put the photo on the neighborhood blog and statewide police wire, and someone recognized Jake. Not only from here in town, but also from several other towns.

“From what I hear, he is wanted all over the state. Maybe the country.”

“Oh my god!”

“There’s more. Look.”

“I turned as they carried out four body bags.”

“What -?”

“The Davidsons.”

“I knew it!”

you crawl into the mouth of the full moon

it’s light tongues you softly

and you feel it’s presence

a looming entity waiting

to swallow you whole

others would be frightened

but you’re forever planted

in a nonchalant resolve

that sucks you into the sand

underneath the cool light

so fresh and tasteless

like a glass of water

your mouth opens and

you tongue the light gently

you’re eager to swallow it whole

The poppies sway in the waves of the sunlight,

readying themselves for the moonlit night.

The bees are coming!

Sweet nectar for their hunger;

to the dandelions they next proceed to

with speed.

And there go the birds!

Soaring high in the sky;

I sigh.

For what a lovely sight is Summer.

Dear rabbit,

come out from your hole.

I do not bite.

Come frolic in the meadow

so that I may relish in this nature story.

I raise my arms to the air –

I am bare.

Come as I am;

be who I am.

I want to slowly

read the rest of that iceberg

s l o w l y

piece by piece, each day of my life

Amy unfolds the note, revealing big, bubbly handwriting.

'Prom? Y/N'

She smiles and scribbles down her answer.

"Amy," Ms. Peters calls.

She jumps.

"Would you care to share with the rest of the class?"

"Yes." Slowly, she stands and faces her girlfriend, who sits across the room. "I'll go to prom with you."

it's okay

my heart is just as bruised and battered as yours

but within you, it finds a place to rest

to breathe

it finally feels safe

safe in words no dictionary could hold

you put a spell on me, darlin

a spell covered in the dust

of one million dying stars

I shifted, bent

and formed into a new being

a new shape

that nestled itself perfectly

into the curve of your body,

and the roundness of your arms

as they wrapped around my soul

my entire being destroyed

and shattered from the inside out

and rebuild anew

now, not one moment passes

without my skin craving yours,

these hands restlessly searching

until they find

the masterfully well-built web

of our fingers

intertwining into one,

my light yearning to once again be with its counterpart

wait for me,

under the Apollo's Sun

as I find my way home

not to a place or any four walls

but to that melody

playing my name between your ribs

a galactic storm

put into a slightly fractured and bruised heart

that beats

to the rhythm of my own

finally, I have found

someone with a chaos matching mine

.

His parents' eyes are on him.

His heartrate spikes. His thoughts race, his gaze downcast. Sweaty palms are clasped together on his lap. Fingers fidget.

Face them or hide. Put on an act. Deny himself. Hurt alone. His vision waters. He's fifteen, but he's done this since he was seven. He can't take it anymore.

"I-I'm gay," he confesses.

Mom scoots on the couch to his side. "We know," she soothes.

"It's okay," Dad assures, moving to sit beside him.

Built-up tension leaves him. He cries, hard.

His parents embrace him.

His head hurts, but he feels lighter, more free.