sometimes i wonder if you like me
writing about you, even if it is not
really you, and i am just as elusive.
i could be your upstairs neighbour,
annoying you with the creaking
of floorboards or a typewriter song.
you could be that cheeky redhead
playing guitar on the fire escape
balcony, humming what might just
become the lyrics of your first hit.
and when we bump into each other
at the front door of the building,
exchanging some casual greetings
and commenting on the weather,
sometimes i wonder if you like
me.
hidden pilcrow 