there's a *** of water on the radiator
steaming up the windows
in my tiny bedroom -
the one in brooklyn -
where i was too poor to live in a place with a bedroom door

he's here, and he says he doesn't mind the curtain

there's anonymity in city life,
an ease to being completely alone
while surrounded by people

flush,
with the chill from outside
and the thought -
just the thought -
of his hands on my skin
his skin on my skin

simon and garfunkle on his old record player
sounds of new york
two people,
one bottle of whiskey
how strange to be with someone,
who can make you feel so alone

touch me, please