and then at the window opposite thinking, That’s a leg, a long naked crooked leg, what a curious angle to see such a lengthy leg from. I wasn’t really thinking how it might be attached to a person, until I saw your head peeping out from behind your thigh and pretended I was looking at the view, the buildings, the wide angles narrowed by the canal. You lay on your couch looking past the TV at me, my bags on my bed, acting a man wondering if the rain would ever stop. This morning was all blue sky, window glare across the canal, and your curtains drawn against it.