My window allows me
to watch her while
she’s bathing. It’s invigorating,
electrifying and a cocaine-rush
of other emotions.
I’m entering someone
else’s private domain,
and they do not know that
I’m there, skulking around
like a little, cyborg cockroach
with a camera that sends
images to a computer screen,
I’m the cockroach and my mind’s
the screen, but I digress.
I couldn’t care less about her
buttocks, breasts
and thighs, to be honest.
In fact, I can’t see them,
I only see her head, and though
she’s pretty, it’s the head shower
that excites me the most with
its steel and rubber,
the way it tilts,
the angle at which it lets
the water fall.
I can’t get enough!
I’ve set an alarm clock and
wake up only to watch the
shower in action, before
going back to bed, my mind
riddled with images of water
and metal, rain and restraint,
geometry and lighting.
Ordinary Person 
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