Reflections in a Window
She turns the chair to the window
Where she can look down on the street
And the restaurant across the street
And watch the people come and go,
Couples or larger groups that meet
On the sidewalk, talk awhile,
Then disappear inside. A haunting
Saxophone fills the air every time
Someone opens the door. Cars
Are parked tightly on both sides
Of the street, but as it gets dark,
She sees less of the world outside
The window and more of the world,
The furniture, the man, inside.
The inside gets reflected back at her,
Like a play that she’s suddenly part of,
Without wanting to be. The man
Watches her from behind,
While she stares at him in the window.
She’s told him she wants him to leave
But he won’t until he knows why.
He’s waiting for her to say something.
She owes him an explanation, he thinks.
She looks through him, to the street below.