soap & sobs.

The shower is cool,

My head is hot.

My breath is begging,

It wants to wail murder.

Apparently, it's not socially acceptable.

I'll settle for this soft onslaught of water,

This snail trail of bubbles.

I can hardly remember,

What birthed this loathing,

This huddle halted in my throat.

The little baby crying?

The lady yelling?

The lack of parking?

Crap, I've been brooding not bathing.

My water bill.

I need to start lathering.

I snag the soap from the shower sill.

It squirms in my wrinkling fingers,

It smiles in pink suds and slithers out.

Plick.

The knot is rising.

It's sitting at the back of my tongue.

Don't let it out.

I bend down to pick up the soap.

It's sly; it slips again.

Plick.

The knot is at my teeth.

And it's learned a silly trick.

It slips through the cracks of my clenched grinding,

An escaped convict.

My knees hit slick white ceramic.

I silently scream.

Mouth wide open.

The white porcelain walls are watching.

My storms are now scalding.

The cold water isn't helping.

I curl.

I can't tell the tears from the shower- still spraying.

The knot is gone.

To hell with the water bill.