A Shower of Thoughts

Sometimes I think scary things in the shower—

How it would feel to really hit someone,

or what if I dropped out of school?

You died and now I am forgetting

your voice.

Sometimes I don’t think

anything—I just stand,

letting water slide across my shoulders

course down my arms,

pool at the tips of my fingers

and fall.

I used to sing in the shower,

but one day I quit

and now my voice sounds foreign

so I keep it hushed.

I start to sway,

catching myself with a ****

Swiftly consciousness comes

dripping back down my wet face.

My hands are wrinkled—

I’ve never hit anyone,

or stolen grandma’s ring.

I can’t get any cleaner.

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