All romantic poets are voyeurs
These scribblings reveal us
Watching ourselves
Obsessively and incessantly

We are in fact
Double voyeurs
Constantly describing
Our primary occupation

Writing about
Watching ourselves
Watch our elusive emotions
Flit by like drunken mosquitoes

Maybe this makes us
Triple voyeurs
Forever spying on ourselves
Preparing to write

Such horrid but sweet
And oh so public perversions
Placing me here metaphorically and
Postprandially exposed before you

Can or must this shame be borne alone?
But soft -dear listeners
If I am a multiple ******
What does that make you?