He watched her through the window from across the street.

Her clothes looked sleek,

her hair fell gracefully,


Each movement's meaning, oblique.


He studied her.

Made extensive notes

on her clothes -

he knows

when she'll wear lilac

and when she'll wear mauve.

He learned her by rote. 


Sunday mornings she'd come back from the gym.

Throw her kit on the bed,

Return, wearing a towel instead,

And he'd be waiting, watching, smiling -

he knew it was all for him.


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