Staring At Windows On A Rainy Evening

Whose lights these are I already know--


her spouse is in the village though.


He will not see me staring here


at his pretty wife, drunk--what a show!


My little dear will find her beer


to match with her salted deer,


between the fruits and frozen cake,


the starkest evening--wet and queer.


She pours her Jäger and then spake,


"I reckon there seems to be a mistake."


Beneath the sound of raindrops a beep--

an accident--I step on my jeep's brake.


She stands, screams, taking a peep.


I drive away like mad and promise to keep


my nose to self before I sleep--

and stop stalking her before I sleep.

***

(Of course,

my poem is a pastiche

of the great Robert Frost's

"Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening")