There were two Eves in
that
steamy bathroom: the
one he
knew well, smiling
bashfully
as though her nudity
was news,
not endlessly
retweeted in his head;
the other, behind the
frosted glass, danced
like
Salome under seven
veils of spray,
seductive, erotic,
intent on
having his head
explode.
(Image used by kind permission of
Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The
poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)
