Postcard 18

To be honest, though, "Love" is
Not the word I would use
To describe the feeling
Satisfaction that I interrupted
The surveillance, put a
Brief end to the gaze. And
Irritation that the response to
Being caught red handed
Is not red faced shame
As the eyes are ripped away, but a
Smirking twist of the lips and
That attitude of ownership, of entitlement.
Perhaps I even feel anger that
When I dare to question
This assumed authority by
Acknowledging it is there, the
Response is nothing more than a
Casual break in the stalking
Like it is no big deal, this is
All normal, like I do not deserve
Answers much less
Autonomy or privacy. So, yes, I
Love it when I catch you looking, I
Love it when I make the spying stop
Even if it is only for a moment.