A window through my pain

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As I observe him through the slats of the window blind,
the shadows distort his image,
and his walk, his certain jaunt,
becomes a slither,
and reminded am I -- of a deadly cobra --
his soul becomes unclothed
and is exposed naked to the wind;
his cologne cannot permeate through the masonry
so protected do I become -- from myself --
for his eyes never glance my way,
his shoulders do not move in my direction and
his mind does not cloud with thoughts of me;
he is as free as a man can be --
free to feel no pain, make love without affection,
to receive physical release without emotional
encumbrances; as he presses his foot to the
accelerator, slightly barely discernible,
a body turn is made, eyes of blue glance toward
the window where my bold stare is cut by the
window glare; yet away he drives.

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