The Invisibles Poem by Adnana Zeljkovic

I should turn my back on them,
those behind untransparent window seals
of office buildings,
them, the invisibles,
spying out of their little anonymity nests
on my disclosed intimacy
on my nose poking, private parts scratching
or dental floss tearing
when I am more than assured no one is watching,
not to speak of my desk drawer opening,
even peeping in it,
into that horrendous mess of life -
numerous notes on genotyping
with pearl microfiber for my glasses,
art of living with quotations on yoga
and favorite poets all squashed,
among pens, plastic bags and paper clips
greased with my just-in-case-iris-day-cream
when late for work and lazy,
-disorder as a special kind of order -
a euphemized laziness,
reanalysis of youth processes and outputs,
all entangled, pens and rubber bands,
my life entangled,
with few hairs fallen out many years ago
and still alive,
because I am alive
and because they poke their noses
into my intimacy.
And yet, somehow, I am beginning to like
the inquisitive faces of my invisibles
camouflaged by trembling tree images,
with golden autumn surfaces,
reflecting nature and all -
the window seal interface
between them
and me.