I look in peoples windows to amuse myself, it’s easy from here.
I can see into every lighted window across the boulevard, and live another life.
I could have a husband come home to me, so I could kiss him at the door. I could have a nanny raising my children while I work out until I pass out. I could be a hoarder whose home is filled with garbage.
But could I be myself, put myself into another life, through another window?
Could I dance in the kitchen? Could I have a child?
I don’t want to be alone.… Read the rest