the woman in the window.

i dont belong here, but there she is, smiling, waving. you know me? she knows me, well she knows my name and the school we shared. she knows my writing. i know her position, but now, in this place outside of our place of business, i can admire--desire. the wind is blowing and i can't stop thinking, and i drift often but i never thought my drifting would have a purpose. tonight, she offers me the words. i breathe them out silently into the space between our bodies, i wonder if she can read them in my eyes. as she leaves, i wonder.

does she? wonder?