She Liked Me To Watch Her

There was the watching

at the start. When he first saw her,

he watched her

all the time. When they asked him,

later, he said it wasn’t deliberate.

He said he didn’t choose

to watch her.

It was something he couldn’t not do,

he said, like breathing.

I couldn’t not breathe, he told them.

It was like that. I couldn’t

not watch her.

She was sweet, and pretty,

the prettiest little thing, and so

I watched her,

he said. She smiled at me, once,

and so I knew she liked it, I knew

she liked me to look at her,

to watch her,

I knew that. I just didn’t know

what she didn’t like, he said.

How could I know that,

what she didn’t like? If she never

told me that she didn’t like it,

how would I know that she

didn’t like to be touched?

How would I know that she’d

make all that noise?

It would never have happened,

he said, if she hadn’t

made all that noise.

I only watched her

up to then, he said.

She never said as such,

he told them,

we never actually talked,

but I know that

she liked me

to watch her.