Hotel Sex (or, Trying To Find A Great Show)
Sometimes I get to the office pretty early, and someties I stay late. I have two views from my office windows. One is a stunning NJ vista, from which I would have seen the plane landing in the Hudson. The other windows in my office provide me a direct view of 100 rooms at the Times Square Marriott.
I see dressing, undressing, other stuff… Yep, if you stay there and you leave but a slight sliver of your window unobscured by the curtain…I can see you. And while I’m on these fascinating conference calls, I AM looking!
But can you see me? At first, I thought you could, and I didn’t mind. I figured you were from out of town, and you might not speak English so good. Or that you just didn’t mind, you thought I was cute. Or you wanted to get cast in Real World.
Then I tried dancing in the window, memba? Just to see how you’d react.
I was up on the sill, and I was getting kinda freakydeaky because Ciara (Ciara?) had just come by and given us her new CD, and I was feelin’ it, baby. You were right there, across the street, eye to eye, parallel plane, and I could swear you were lookin’ right at me. But…nothin! You didn’t react. How come? I was giving it all I had!
If anyone wants to know what to get me for my birthday (or sooner?), I think I need a telescope. Something for greater detail. I feel my eyes are going. I could use a closer look at the Marriott. Especially at night, after a long day, when my eyes are tired, I’m sick of stepping on toes, and all I’m trying to do is find the next great show.
Then again, aren’t we all.