I live
I creep
on tiptoes.

I'm the dogs barking
at the end of your street
the cars honking
outside your window
the fly buzzing
behind your ear
I'm all the sounds
you mistake for silence.

On tiptoes
I peer through the window
and watch wide eyes
straight backs
crisp collars
check their watches
and wonder where I've gone
and wonder why I've gone.

I think if
I step softly enough
on tiptoes
I could see everything
I could be everything
without leaving behind anything
not a sound
not a footprint.