Peeping Tom Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Peeping Tom

I stood in the shadow at an art shop
That sold aisles and stuff, we often went there
In the days when she wanted to be a painter.
She gave it up.
On the other side of the street a dance place
I saw her dance carefully with a slick Italian type.
I hated him.
I stood there until the music stopped, saw them
Coming out arm in arm walking to a taxi
She wore a sealskin coat I had bought her last year.
She looked towards the art shop she laughed
Loudly with a hint of disdain.
I walked home it was raining softly no one could
See my tears.
I loved her, but she preferred to dance.