I wrote a poem once
it reminded me of a scalding hot shower
that drives into my back.
Like when the water seeps under my shower cap
and I know it's not supposed to but I think it feels good.
When the drain clogs up and the ideas pool around my feet
I wonder if I should redraft like when i reshave my legs
because I missed a spot.
But life isn't a do-over and
I have razor burn.
And I'm afraid the glass will fog up and cover my face
and maybe I just wish the stupid timer would go off
and just turn out the lights.