A man sits in his small, cramped toilet at midnight and notices a spider nearby. He lights her up with a headlamp and watches her through a camera, almost as if they were having a quiet conversation. The humour is gentle: he imagines her as polite and a little embarrassed, pretending to groom herself so she doesn't have to watch him.
Beneath the joke is something warmer. The speaker remembers many lonely hours in toilets, kept company by ants, geckos, frogs and other silent watchers. He says neither he nor the spider is afraid of the other, and he describes the ease between them as a rare kind of friendship, one he feels with very few, such as dogs, dragonflies and other arachnids.
The mood is intimate, wry and tender. By the last lines, the cramped, unglamorous cubicle becomes a safe place where outcasts and friends can simply be together.