a private eye

naked on decking
the heat of middle day
unravels layers
renders them unnecessary
in this seclusion

wearing a cigarette
I gaze into the double-storey
across the road
through the street-facing window
to the corner upright
of a stairway
people
walk up
bounce down
engaged with domesticity
they do not know I exist
that I
watch

exposed
naked
open
but unseen
I am
the fleet glimpse
into other lives
the purveyor
it is I who am
private

I


© Frank Prem, 2003

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