draw the shades my love

at what point did anything

that

feels good,

or tastes good,

or looks good to our

naked eye

become sin,

guilty pleasures despite

being with the realm

of moral

and legal 

boundaries, whether music

or art,

or bare skin.

Is it true

that who we are is

determined by how

we behave

behind closed doors

or in darkness

after two glasses

of cheap wine,

or tumblers of gin?

draw the shades my love,

the neighbors

are peeking in.