roving root cause

They say it's a bad neighborhood.
And it is, but what they know is 
the reason why it's a bad neighborhood
is me. I'm a bad neighbor. The worst. 
The one rotten apple that could disease 
and filth the whole orchard! When I 
showed up, property values dipped 
precipitously, and people began 
to shun their homes as much
as possible. Skulk into them 
or shoot in like darting varmints 
to use the bathroom. Once inside 
stay inside, no faces at windows. Gone 
are the old porch swing days and lemonades, 
neighborly greetings called out, stops for chats. 
Now it's eerie unease, and a feeling of disgust 
that it should come to this. That I should come 

to this
sweet bucolic idyllic halcyon 
of a beautiful-day neighborhood,
and with only my veriest presence 
to work with, turn it all bad, bad, 

bad. 

Don't worry, folks. I'm just passing through.
I'll be passing through every time 
you see me.