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The bather

I was drawn to his bathing. It’s soap that’s in my eyes. Blinded, I reached toward him and bumped into his thighs.
He said the tile should be marble. It should have a golden vein. He flicked the chrome lever, his water found the drain.
He shouted hallelujah and reveled his Holy Ghost. He shouted hallelujah and surprised his lonely host.
Be one with the water, the holy water that drips, shouting hallelujah, from his lovely lips.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah