"The Dim Lit Cafe"

With each glass you fill, with each half-eaten off of plate you carry, my eyes become more curious to the point of obsession.

For between the sheets at the call of night when I lay with her I think of only you and your way with deception.

Studying you for months now it is as if we have met before or is it just the film roles you always seem to resemble of an actress I adore?- but days go by and unknowing of my sick intentions you continue to pour my drink.

At night when you arrive home and take off all your clothes, I am at the window by your bathroom sink. When you turn into bed each night by ten o'clock I return home to my florist wife down our secretly shared block.