Zephyrus of the Anemoi

That’s weird I wrote a very similar poem. Here it is:

The crazy man counts stripes in the suits in the department store window.
His wife, at home, waits patiently, wishing he were home.
A sketchy young man checks to see if he’s being watched before he pulls out his phone.
Checking in with his girlfriend in the middle of the day, he does not want to be seen by his friends.
A woman stands secretively behind a column, smoking her last cigarette before she quits.
It’s too late, her child already addicted to the nicotine sticks of death.
My time stalking Jared while on his way back to work from lunch was unique.

I thought I saw you back there. I almost wrote another line that read:

“My shadow moves irregularly, as if it’s not my own.”

But I left it out, because it didn’t flow with the rest of the piece.

I’ve heard of irregular bowel movements, but never irregular shadow movements. Hmm…perhaps the sun was wobbling that day.