Through this window

I've seen Lady Lilian float past

a few weeks after she left me

in the weightlessness of utter nothingness

in October 1976,

and I saw Annsi through the same glass,

slowly swaying by, like a duck,

in the summer of 1986,

nine months pregnant with an author

and Doctor of English Literature,

me hiding behind months of dark, flaming,

anticipatory inconvenience

...and I've seen innumerable ladies dance by,

imagining them in ridiculously intimate predicaments

In short, this is the lookout of choice

for the exotic sightings of femme fatale femininities

and the matter-of-fact crucials of life passing

in a cinematic staging of all that mattered and didn't

I try to stay cool

while little motors everywhere

sound like swarms of bees

or looming Lancaster bombers over the Channel 1944

I look shamelessly

at the young woman minding the store

all day,

rushing back and forth in the café,

picking up dishes and delivering sandwiches,

showing off her tasty ass

as she leans and flexes

from morning till night,

appearing, afterwards, shining

through starving men's intense masturbation,

and that is as it should;

just the order of things

I get horny too, time and again,

as sure as the swell of the ocean,

and there are so many women in here

and so few men,

you might suspect we're in fact on the Polish side

of the Polish-Ukrainian border

My day is a room

of voluntary work spaces

that I find myself sitting through

Kumlins is a work space

for people with lap tops,

though not nearly as busy

as the coffeeshops of big towns

Now it's my present work space,

with pencil, sharpener and notebook, plain

The notes I take

become gray traces

of wandering thoughts

...and it's not long until everything

that doesn't yet exist

doesn't exist anymore