Tonight I adore being voyeur,
While walking dark streets with a distant friend,
Discussing stomach pains and poetry.
A hostile city hugs me tight this night,
And its architecture aches straight into me,
Giving me license I do not normally allow.
I see your lace slip and chase a bitter breeze,
Your smooth and sanguine walls disrobe before me,
I discover in this grit a moment of pure wonder.
I have not felt like this in months,
Free and peeping, willing to wallow deep inside belief,
Everything else ceasing to be.
Except for you, your second floor beckoning,
Orderly rows of leather-bound books, an exactly centered chandelier,
Offering a glimpse of life that I cannot keep myself from creating.
Tonight I follow my forgotten fetish,
I let myself drift and remember the thrill of imagining,
I watch, and am made warm, for a moment, inside your red room.
-a.r.
Photograph: I’ll Never Tell by EyesOpenPhotos on Etsy.com
This is a reworking of a poem I wrote many years ago…before that other said “red room” became polished pop culture.
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