A silent distortion in the shadows,
Visible as delicate, black tip-toes
From frozen gateposts to frosty hedgerows,
Or fog dispersing from a hidden nose.
A feeling of experimentation:
You the subject under observation,
Cheated by a lack of information,
Deprived of your self-determination.

So leave by an unusual, awkward route,
All the lights ablaze and windows ajar.
Meander circuitously awhile,
Pausing to examine your fingernails
Outside his offensive little playpen:
Surprise is all to a fool's lack of style.

Or simply reverse his inept pursuit:
Wait 'til he's at last returned to his car
And stroll to your own, following the vile
Invertebrate in each of his details
To his own, so he thought, once-secure den,
Thus tearing the black skin from this reptile.