October 26, 2004
January 24th 2003There is a man across the way whose outlined shadow I can sometimes see from my frost trimmed window. As I pass to pour myself a drink, I take a fleeting glance just to catch a glimpse; is he there tonight and is he looking for me?
I can imagine, as he lends his body to the icy metal of the balcony rail, that he is looking for me.
The inhaled glow of his cigarette and the smoke than rising from his form... He stands alone and takes his time; perhaps the curteous roommate of a friend who could not stand to have the living room infiltrated by such odious poison. And so he braves the cold, eight degree air.
Is his time occupied with watching me? As I pass the window once again to grab a sweater, to mix another drink... Might he, by now, know the number of ice cubes I clink, clink, clink into my empty glass? Does he wonder what the reason could be that this beautiful girl should be all alone on another Friday night?
Has he seen me pass the window with the tissues for my tears? Does he ponder who I am, with all these moments kept so quietly to himself? I can only imagine.
Is he content or is he wanting, is he wishing 'she' were there or is he desperate to erase 'her' from his memory. Would he leave words of love lingering in the frosty night, if only he thought that I could hear? Is this bitter cold a delightful toture, more real than anything else he knows, to be reveled in for all its brevity? I can only imagine.
And I'll pass the window this night once more, wondering of him, wishing he knew that someone, just across the way, is thinking about him and keeping his heart so warm...