My husband warns

My husband warns,
"Hush, the windows are open"
when I ask him to scratch my back,
directing his hand to the itchy spot with a
"lower, lower, there".
He worries someone will hear my muffled voice,
shuttering the window as he leans in,
worried someone will capture.
Duchamp had a happy idea.
Mine is to fling the shutters wide,
crank open the windows,
let the wood chips fall,
but the only thing falling is the temperature,
twenty degrees in the next two hours.
My husband cases the house to capture our heat.
I keep my laptop open to capture my words.
Lower.
Lower.
There.