Stalker

I love to hang out,
and have you call the cops.
I send dozens of roses everyday,
all to your disgust.

I know everything about you,
you drink coffee every morning, vanilla bean.
Take a shower,
look so fine under that hot water.
Read the comics in your daily newspaper,
never laughing, not even smiling.
Not even I,
your number one fan,
can make you happy.

I write you poems.
And sing you songs.
Following you down the street.
And what I’d like most is to listen to you sleep,
and you don’t even know me.

Sitting outside on your doorstep,
at night howling to the moon.
Going through your garbage can,
looking for your every scrap.

I stole your panties,
and got rid of your boyfriend.
Make it to your press conferences,
this is my job.

It’s all for you.

My preferred occupation,
Stalker Extraordinaire