Good Run

by James Babbs

I don’t know her
I only see her
sometimes
jogging past the house
her long blonde hair
flowing out behind her
like a banner proclaiming
her presence
black headband keeping it
from falling into her face and
I see the way her black pants
cling to the curves of her body and
I stand at the window
probably
longer than I should
watching her ass move
until it disappears from view and
then
I’m undressing her
imagining
what it must be like
holding her
the feel of her body
so close to mine
when I ask her
if she had a good run