#one

i have a neighbor that showers every night at the exact same time. i can sit on my front stoop and time the lighting of my last with the turning of the faucet. drip drip gush goes the water as it washes away his day. i wonder what he's thinking and whether or not he turns on the light. sometimes i prefer to clean up in the dark. i wonder if he ever cries into the water so his wife won't see his tears. or if he ever hums a quiet tune as he shampoos his hair. i wonder why he showers so late and whether he showers again in the morning long before my eyes flutter open. i wonder if he's happy. what he does during the day. boxers or briefs? what side of the bed he crawls into once he's dry. does he have any weird allergies. or children? does he keep secrets that make him bitter and angry. does he love his wife? does he kiss her before she sleeps and bring her coffee in the morning? does he begrudge his parents for what they weren't. does he wish he was better? sometimes i light one more just so i can hear the water turn off. we sit in silence. he doesn't know i'm here. he doesn't know my name. i don't know his. and i revel in the silence where we can both be ourselves. alone. he in his towel. me on my porch. before we open the door to the house and become the other we.