Impression:You

It must have been the way the drops of moisture
gathered speed as they collected on their journey
down the vertical slope of the bathroom mirror.

There is simply no other way for me to put in words
how turned on I was by the image of your sultry echo,
an impression of nakedness obscured in humid
lust no less real than the dirty thoughts
gathering speed as they collect on their journey
down the vertical slope of my wondering mind.

Surely this is the way Monet would have painted you,
or the way Vettriano would have loved you,
or the way Picasso would have despised you.