night walker

walking late at night
through my complex,
i make stories for people
based on the lights i see.

for i surely won't peek
in their window;
my gazing -- nay guesswork --
is done from a safe distance.

a living room light on
at 11 p.m.? mom or dad
works late; the kids
were kept up for dinner.

flashing cool, blueish lights
radiating from behind blinds?
a single someone, to be sure,
waiting to be taken... by sleep.

dim lights flickering from
the whirr of an overhead fan?
surely it's two lovers, wrapped
in each others arms, safe, secure.

when i get home i ritually turn on
the tiny lamp on my nightstand,
just enough by which to read,
and wonder what another thinks of me.