He sits outside

He sits outside

On the street

In his car

Looking in

I’m sure of it

As I look out

At him

Looking in at me

As sure as eggs

Is eggs.

We are at an impasse

I could pull the blind

But then he would know

That I have seen him.

Am I overreacting

Who has the power here?

It is my house

It is his car

Well, maybe it is

Maybe it’s not

I have no way of knowing

He could be lost

In a dream of his own making

Afraid to snap out of it

For fear the weight

Of my stare

Will bring him

To himself.

Perhaps he has been kicked out

Left his wife

Lost to violence

Broken his vows

His weakness

Controlling the outcome

Maybe he is a killer

A wife-beater

A child molester

A malcontent.

I am better off

Leaving him to his own devices

But do I want a killer

Sitting outside in a car?

Perhaps he has the weapon

Good god, what if

He is the weapon

Waiting to explode

Right here

Right now

On the street

Outside my house

What a bloody arcane thing to do

And have it out with him

Move him on

Although he might

Blow me up

Right here

Right now

Leaving a hole in my daylight

Perhaps I’ll leave him

To it for a while

Let him be

And do something different.