I am sitting in
my backyard reading
a book of poetry.
Notice my nosy
neighbour watching
me from her
window. She
doesn't read poetry.
Probably thinks I
am looking at
porn. I wave at her.
Blow a playful
kiss. She screams
something vicious
out the window.
I reach for my
crotch. Start rubbing
theatrically. She
violently slams
the window. Face
redder than
ripened beets.
Threatening to call
the police. I
shake my head.
Continue reading.
A poem written
over sixty years
ago by a person
far greater
than she could
ever be. Punching
at the walls
inside her suburban
fortress. Imagining
they were me.
Brenton Booth lives in Sydney, Australia. Poetry of his has appeared in Gargoyle, New York Quarterly, North Dakota Quarterly, Chiron Review, Main Street Rag, Naugatuck River Review, Heavy Feather Review, and Nerve Cowboy. He has two full length collections available from Epic Rites Press.
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