it's behind you
following cumbrously
hiding your shoulder
from the stocking eye
piling up thoughts
to prepare your arms
for a hollow embrace.
it's behind me
bending my spine
exposing my chest
flapping the side-pocket
whose decadently ajar zipper
grins warningly
at the straying whim.
it's in front of you
gravitating inyour lap
shunning your stomach
from digesting a twist
of my displaced kneecap.
it's in front of me
protecting the newborn butterfly
from I
mindless of the playful
peeping eye.