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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473956" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Stalker</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473956" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The Stalker </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473956" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Liverpool 1974 and it wasn’t raining, sat in a café, at the pedestrian precinct, <br>the coffee was awful, tasted like milky tea, when I saw her. She was daintily<br>munching a cheese sandwich with, and drank a cup of tea.Her skin was silky <br>she had green eyes, red hair and I just knew she was Irish. She looked up and <br>smiled. I panicked, and pretended to read “Liverpool Echo.” She waited for <br>me to make a move, paralyzed with shyness I could not. Finally she got up, <br>I followed; by the Victoria monument she took bus eight to Garston. Now it <br>was overcast and soft rain fell; she waved as the bus passed me. I thought <br>of following the bus in a cab to see where she got off, but it was no good<br>I had hesitated too long, whatever I did next she would think I was a stalker.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oskar+Hansen">Oskar Hansen</a></strong></div>

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