Once in awhile on my rounds
I spot a pretty woman alone
on the street, makes me think
You’re in danger here .  I’d better
follow along, keep an eye out
on you, sweet, make sure you come

to no harm.  So I become
her shadow.  She turns around,
I duck into a doorway, wait her out.
Pretty woman shouldn’t be alone  --
she’s a target, a mark.  Far better
with me along for the ride, I think.

No?  Well, to look you might not think
so, but I manage.  One word, out comes
the blade and they find you in an alley better
ventilated than when you started.   Around
here, a woman, pretty woman all alone,
means something, like you’re out

looking, asking for it; and out
of nowhere, you’ll find it.  Wham.  You think
maybe you’re so good that you alone
can walk through this world and come
out clean; that all the crap can fly around
and none of it land on you?  Well you’d better

reconsider, sweet.  No, you’re no better
than all the other slags that traipse out
to this part of town, parade around,
show themselves off and think
they’re doing us a favor. Time has come
for you to learn what it really means to be alone.

Turn down that side street. You and me, alone.
I close the gap, see you now much better.
Nice.  Smell of your perfume sings Come
take me  --  It's you I want.   Lift me out…
No -- there’s a better way, I think.
I’ll just hang back, follow you around

till you lead me out to where you live  --  alone?
Yes, much, much better.  Then I can come
to you whenever I think you need me around.
 

Copyright 1999, Peter Aaron
 

Peter Aaron is a writer living in the Seattle area. He studies writing at University of Washington Extension, and is a founder of Third Place Books.