From outside, through the window,
you are watching the woman inside. You love her.
You left to walk the dog.
She was at the sink washing her hair.
You love her best when she is like this—washing her hair,
applying makeup, pulling on stockings.
Unconscious moments. Degas moments.
I watch you watching her.
The ocean a stretch of green,
seagulls overhead as you walk Smitty along the beach.
You pass people patiently enduring unhappiness.
You pass a pied piper, power walking,
a pack of happy kids trailing.
But who's in the houseboat making it rock?
Coming back to the smell of something baking,
cookies maybe, a warm house. She leans over the teapot,
testing it. You take a peach from the fruit bowl
on the table. You bite into its sweetness.
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