The Man in the Window

by Michael Palma

Blocking the light, silhouetted in the window,
I look down on a man in the street below,
Trace his dark coat standing against the snow,
Wrap him in the blanket of his concerns,
Comprehend his progress as he patterns
The kaleidoscoping crowd in its swirls and turns,
Reach deeply down into myself and go
Stumbling and cold and glance up at a window
To see a man watching me, a man I don’t know.