Lingered opposite my window, segmented and framed Piet Mondrian-wise by the grid of panes.
Eyes flick from his handheld gadget up and down my street, swinging right through me like a feather-light axe.
Looking for someone?
Pacing the pavement, holding his scrolling screen like a dowsing rod.
The wifi hotspot sizzles round him, riffling the interwebs in and out of his shadow.
His fingertips, sensitive as some sightless masseur, skitter through cogs for settings, email, like, share, tweet, read more, meme.
Then he's gone again.
Till next time.
I will glimpse him, breaking his stride to gather the googleable, the encrypted out of ether.
Wondering if he sees me seeing him.