Obsession

I watched across the couch and he stared away from me.
I watched him sleep every night, breathing softly.
He golfed. He walked. He cooked.

I know every square inch of his face,
The way his nose curves at the end,
The huge pores on his face,
The bushy eyebrows hovering over his crystal blue eyes,
His white-haired whiskers mixing with the red on his chin, on his mouth.

I follow him to the music store.
He buys some strings for his guitar,
Picking up the store guitar, he strums softly.
He plays for a while,
Plays faster, harder, then stops.
Putting the guitar down,
He fingers a guitar strap and leaves.

He picks up the phone.
He doesn’t answer, checks the caller ID,
He sets the phone back down, turns off the ringer.
I’m watching.

He eats, drinks, fucks, sleeps.
He breathes.

I am there.