"I have a stalker,"
my student tells me.
He put beer bottles
under her tires. He
telephones her at odd
hours. While she was
in class, he broke
into her apartment and
did "weird things." The
police told her they
have some good leads.
They're pretty sure this
guy lives in Florida.
Just to be safe,
a patrol car cruises
by her apartment several
times a day. After
chatting for a bit
longer, about this and
that and the other,
she exits in a
swish of thick raven
hair and a billowy
cloud of perfume. I
couldn't tell if she
was truly frightened or
if she was enjoying
all of the attention.
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