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The Invisible Stranger
The Invisible Stranger
A stranger has been sharing my bed
A stranger whose face I can’t see, nor can he see me
He hears me. I speak to him. But I hesitate
She moves/he moves, not to copy, but out of necessity
She says: sing to the stranger, which is odd (most ladies wouldn’t welcome a stranger in their bed) Yet I sing. But I hesitate.
…this stranger will soon be very familiar.
Familial familiarity.
And suddenly…
…I don’t hesitate. I can’t wait to welcome the stranger. Excited that soon, 9 months after appearing invisible in my bed, there will be nothing strange about him.
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