there is a house
across from mine
it always has its curtains drawn
but they are sheer white
so they hide nothing
their purpose has been written off
simply due to the
dyers choice in color
or is it colour
I never know
anyhow, I always try to peer through those curtains
as if the mystery behind them
would deem the hours spent
scouting through my binoculars
-on my wooden balcony
with its splintery, unstable floorboards
-would deem it worth all of the time wasted
finding out a mystery
but what if the secrets hidden behind those curtains
was just an illusion
a shadow
without an owner
what if the time spent
was actually wasted
and after I found the secret
what if it didn't satisfy
but only put salt on my tongue
which made me thirst even more
but I shall never know the hidden secrets
the unknown mystery
of 312 Pine Grove
I will still crane my neck
forever hoping that in my restricted hours
of spying
someone
or something
would emerge
from the dark
and reveal itself to me
