When I'm Bored
He stood across the street
with a briefcase in hand
Bermuda shorts, tennis shoes
and a NY Mets baseball cap.
Seemed like a thousand more
inconspicuous city dwellers
living under the canopy of NYC.
Looking down from the eleventh floor
through binoculars, I watch
as he gets into a taxi
and I'll never see him again
standing on that corner.
I wondered where he was going
or what he had in that briefcase.
Maybe he was a spy or a salesman
or his backpack fell in a puddle
and he uses a briefcase
to carry his books to NYU.
I really wonder if he knew
I was watching him; me,
someone who made him visible
and memorable, someone
with a certain purpose
and maybe even a secret.
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