The pavement bore my burden under the orange of suburban night boxes of uniformity developer of rows emitting the warm glow unwelcoming blinded lights the homogenous hedges maintain neighborly relations.
I the outsider looked in a temporary longing to witness the silhouette lives beyond the drapes, I moved to a window with curtains drawn squeezing between the never off road and manicured crown of bay. I glimpsed through a curtain crack the life of suburban style as advertised and eulogised in weekend supplement guide. The delusion of cool.
My breath clouded the paned view I pressed my face to feel their comfort, their shapes draped on leather and cushion wrapped in the flickering emissions of entertainment bored faces staring at oblivion in high definition hands dearly clasping nightly vintage of consolation.
I was stealth, voyeur to the norm I watched their lives unfold praying that I would go unnoticed so that I would remain uninvited.
