I watch people,
observe them in the grocery aisle.
I feel, sometimes like a predator
guiltily, as if I were doing
something wrong
by watching.
And then, as if sensing my glance
they’ll look up,
from their sleepy-eyed study,
leaving alone momentarily
the price of mayonnaise,
to catch me on the periphery,
as I move my cart down the aisle.
subtext 