The young woman who returns me
to my one-bedroom apartment
says, "What a shame you can't see
the harbour. Knowing it's the other side
of that other block of apartments there."
I don't tell her I watched a woman
leave that block, walk purposefully
along the footpath, and twirl suddenly
to catch her front-on reflection
in its glass lobby walls. She had no idea
another watched, finding that human
distraction more interesting than yachts.
My friend is right, too. Tomorrow I move
to two bedrooms on a tenth floor
with a harbour view.