Puff Puff's New Glasses

Streetlight. A Poem(?) by Benatar

In my spot in the attic, there's a window.
From that spot in the attic, I can see all of the houses behind me.
And in front of those houses, there are streetlights.
Sometimes, I see little children playing on the pavement beside it, playing footie or tag or hopscotch.
Sometimes, I see teenagers sneaking out with their mates to go to parties.
Sometimes, I see proper adults on their ways to work or to run errands in their SUV's.
But those little children go back indoors when the streetlights come on, waving goodbye to their friends, packing up their footballs and chalk.
But those teenagers are illuminated by the streetlights when they come home drunk, unless they've crashed their cars into the streetlights trying to park.
But those adults come home to a streetlight on, shining on the faces of their families as they come to greet their beloved children and spouses.

Today, I went to my spot in the attic with the window.
And from that spot in the attic, just like every day, I could see all the houses behind me.
And in front of those houses, there were streetlights.
But I didn't see the children playing, the teenagers doing something they shouldn't be, or even the adults off to their real jobs.

I saw myself.
My image staring back at me from a little slip of paper on the streetlight.
My name in bold letters, a description of my appearance just below it.
I saw myself, but I'm right here.