Sunday, January 8, 2012


There are open windows to your soul,
Seers unlock windows to certain doom...
Some windows boast bright flower boxes,
Or the dirty glass in my hotel room.

Some windows are trained to block the light,
Dark drapes, or a venetian louver...
I only see a man watching me,
In my room in North Vancouver.

He's also watched from my hotel room
By one very curious dog...
Their voyeuristic romance extinguished;
Doused by Strait of Juan de Fuca fog.

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