I watch her. I stare at her red
hair,
Her slender body, her large breasts.
I watch her empty the rain water
Out of her backyard bird bath.
She wants to keep it dry.
She does not want a visitor who sings.
I gaze at her when she works,
Scraping dirt off her white brick walkway.
As she leans, her white shorts tighten.
In the evening, she hides inside,
Reads trashy love stories.
She must be very lonely.
