Cold and around 3am. I stood at the window of my room and looked out into the sleeping neighborhood.
From my second-story vantage point, I could see the lonely taxis cruising for prey - heard their sighing.
I took a long drag from my cigarette and pulled the dingy bath robe closer to my body. I hated nights like this - wallowing in fits of insomnia. It was so quiet. I glanced down into the vacant, rubbly lot adjacent to the house. I wouldn’t had noticed him if he hadn’t moved.
He lay in the shadows on a tattered, Mexican blanket - legs crossed, hands clasped across his chest as if lying in state. He reached slowly over to a green, plastic bottle and took a swig of whatever liquid was inside. Long moments passed - I watched him. I watched - slowly smoking.
He got up, slightly stretching - I know, I thought, that concrete can get mighty cold - he was tall and lanky with long, black hair in waves, the obligatory goatee. His clothes were old and well worn. Dark skin that soaked in the shadows. I watched.
He slowly meandered around the lot - in and out of the shadows of the crumbling, red-brick walls that encircled the vacant space. He stopped and then - as I watched - he crept slowly over to the window of another house that faced the lot.
Fingertips placed on stucco wall, he stealthily moved up to the window and peered in - his shadow extended, stretching and reaching the window before he did. He stood there - moments passed. I watched and I slowly took another drag.
Quickly, he ducked down - paused - then cautiously, back up to the window. Moments passed and I watched as he peered into the pitch black window.
Slowly, he turned and slinked back to his camp and took another gulp of whatever was in that green, plastic bottle. Then, he stealthily crept back to the window and peered in. Moments passed.
He tip-toed over to a part of the crumbling brick wall that was a meter high and straddled it - like a horse. He sat gazing at the black window a few feet away. I watched. He gazed at the window, then unbuttoned his pants and in the half-light, pulled out his erection. Slowly he caressed it; slowly his fingers glide around the head. He silently lifted himself off of the wall and with his erection that swung out in front of him, he returned to the window. What did he see? A couple sleeping? A couple fucking? A small child snoring safely in her/his room? What was he looking at? I took another drag as he sneaked up to the windows edge and peered in, one hand on the window sill, the other messaging his cock.
Sirens wailed and dogs barked as three police patrols careened down the street and passed - red and blue lights blasting and exploding across the lot. He ducked from the window and scampered over to his camp - in one swoop; he collected his little plastic bottle, a bag and blanket and escaped into the shadows of the night...