A Watched Egg

It is 114 degrees, noon, and I step out onto Langdon,

stealthy, my eyes darting everywhere, see someone coming,

sit down on the stoop, whistle, nod and smile hello,

wait for him to hurry the heck up and disappear.

My breath comes in short, nervous bursts

as I reach out the egg, crack it against the metal handrail,

and place the contents carefully on the sidewalk.

A newcomer, I’ve never experienced heat like this before,

sit back down on the steps and wait for action.

Is that?  No, that’s not a bubble.  Hmmm . . .

Someone is coming down the sidewalk again.

I jump up and run inside my building,

peer from the window as the pedestrian passes by.

He stops, looks down at the egg, looks up and around,

shakes his head and laughs, then moves on.

I sit there, out of sight, and wait for my egg to fry.

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