We take showers in the morning to wash away

The dirt from yesterday’s sin

The water a transparent veil 

Dismisses the impurity within

Warm, burning, scorching and now cold

The plumbing here must be really shitty

Bars of soap glide across smooth skin like paved roads

And hit the rigid, dead ends on bone

At least paved roads extend longer

Than the reach of two fleshy arms

Hair becomes one clumped, mushy mound

A potent aroma of lavender soap stains each follicle

Eyes are eggs in a frying pan

The burning sensation is a pleasant kind of pain

The mind leaves the body behind in the present

And vacates to the realms of its own history

Summer of O’nine, a place seemingly frozen in time

Golden brown sand between toes, floppy sun hats

Sand castles, shark teeth, and massive salt water waves

A perfect vortex with each tide

The water … a memory so sacred to the soul

Brought back to life each morning at 7:15 A.M. sharp

A memory worth years laid to rest again 

In only a short fifteen minutes

The mind returns to the body now

Reluctantly dismissing the reminisce

Water runs dry leaving only behind

A steamy cloud of warm comfort

The cold air from the outside kicks you in the groin

Pulling you back to reality

Quickly reaching for the towel

Polishing the smooth terrain of the body 

Gentle and calm, with care 

Showers are casual repentance practices

The way elderly take their daily medicines.