it is early morning
and light is only beginning to slip over the silhouettes of home

i stand at my window looking out over the back lane to the house across the way
surrounded by a tall fence with grape leaves trailing its porch rails

an elder couple lives there
from this fourth floor i've seen them

on Fridays they light candles
flames flicker into long evenings
they dine with place mats and full sets of cutlery
He often putters in the kitchen
She waters foliage on the back deck

This morning their long white shade is drawn three quarter down
and in the window i see a reflection
of my own worn out apartment
and the figures of two people
crouched, sitting legs stretched
underneath the overhang below my view
in the back driveway
near the garbage cans
and recycling

i am watching
their reflections move
unknowing of my gaze

in silence as the he of this two
takes a blue thick elastic from a partly torn pocket
rolls his sleeve
binds his arm
and beckons his veins to open