My living room faces a large wall full of windows,
people are spying on me,
asking themselves:
’Why does he live alone?
Has his wife left him?
Is he gay?’
I want to draw the curtains but don’t like to be rude,
so I switch off the table light
then draw the curtains,
but they are flimsy,
offending light seeps in snakes around
wanting to know everything.
Cover curtains with a blanket.
That’s better.
Got no curtain in the kitchen though,
it faces another grim wall
full of windows,
squat in front of the fridge,
open its door;
it’s like a stage light coming on,
take out a carton of milk
and make myself coffee.
From down stairs flats I hear voices,
bet they are busy talking about me.