Choreographies of distance

I'm not playing, I say to myself as Lilith and I walk on the other side of the parking lot toward the turn to home. The neighbor who hasn't spoken to me in over two years, or even looked at me, stands across the lot with her dog, a dog named for a famous Yankee player we used to be able to like, her daughter and two more dogs. They're talking to each other, about to head down the lot parallel to us. Lilith and I keep going, and she graces me with a much desired poop. The countdown from five begins. When I look up again, mother and daughter and their dogs have turned on their heels; they walk away from any geometry that might bring us face to face. Lilith and I continue down the sidewalk, making the turn toward home. The trees are beautiful in this light. I take pictures.