If you can't see me
technically I'm creeping.

That's the thing about van life at the beach.
The tinting on the windows
provide a delightful treat.

Greetings, yummy surfer meat.

Why would he change out here in the open
if he didn't want to be appreciated
for the beautiful piece of art he is?

If I touch myself, I'm a creep.
But my eyes can eat the meat.

Cold. He tenses his muscles.
I'm starved so I notice

He can't see me but-
what if I'm his destiny!

Nope. He's gone.