The Eye on the Shelf

Walked past the corner store, the one

with the dim light, the hum. And done

was my day, or so I thought.

Until I caught, on the small screen, caught

my own slow walk, a ghost in gray.

Fish-eyed, distorted, coming to stay

for a frame or two, then gone. A cheap

trick. The unblinking red light, deep

in the plastic casing, watching me.

Not for safety, just to see.

To know I was there, a passing blur,

a silent judgment, never quite sure

what it recorded, or for whom.

Just a low hum, in an empty room.