watching

You think
I’m asleep.

But I’m not.

I’m watching
you pad
naked
’round the
bedroom.
striking
poses in
the mirror
doin’ that little
white girl dance
’cause the Stones
are on the radio

showing off
your body
to yourself
measuring
addressing
checking for
symmetry –
a tiny stolen
moment
of vanity.

You bend forward
and run your
hands along
your long, smooth leg.

Hands on hips,
fingers fanned out
across the top of you
fine, fine, ass.
You meet your own
green-eyed gaze.

You think
I’m asleep.

But I’m not.

This poem originally appeared on my MySpace Blog, Full Mental Jacket, on 08/08/2006

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This entry was published on 08/08/2006 at 5:00 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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