i miss my stalker girl

i sort of miss

my stalker, the woman

who

followed me,

who

dialed my number

in the middle of the night

and said nothing.

i miss her texts

and e mails,

seeing her car drive by,

or catching a glimpse

of her

in the shrubbery

when i lean out

to grab the morning paper.

i miss her

disguises.

the black hat

and hoodie,

the sunglasses.

showing up in random

places

and crouching down.

i wonder where she is

these days,

a knock on the door,

or peek

through my window,

would be nice.

i could use a shiver down

my spine.