WINDOW FINGERS

An alley. The warm side.

Red bricks mortared with sweat.

Black pipes track to the roof.

A radio bubbles the air.

Sad songs like cold air

drop into shadows.

A window watcher. Second floor.

Beneath the fire escape.

Fingers prying apart white blinds.

Viewing below; eyes deep set, hidden

in a cave, protected, revealing nothing.

Pigeons scatter; a squall of feathers

swirl to below. Heavy shuffling feet

enter a back door. Slamming hard,

waking the dead; two cats run for cover.

Window fingers slip into retreat.

Secret eyes full from stealing sights.


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