Peripheral Vision

Here I sit in the little café

Like a minor satellite orbiting a moon.

I cling to my table intently as if

Inhabiting my own Eleanor Rigby room.

At the approach of curious passers-by

My awareness grows keen as a half-starved kitten.

I sit statue-like, yet follow every move,

Ready to pounce, covering my secret ammunition.

     I saw a curious thing in the little café:

     An eerie-looking woman alone at a table.

     As she hovered over her food and papers,

      I walked past as confident as I was able.

     I fearfully held my bag to my breast.

     I felt spied upon as if my secrets were showing.

     And with unmet eyes as she sat unmoving,

     I sprinted by, achingly aware of her knowing.

Naida Lavon

11-18-2008