i used to spend hours in the shower
as i child, playing out
make believe wonders 'til my fingers
were prune-y and the water turned to ice.

now my adult mind is a constant blur
of to-do's, and tick-tock's, and
never being satisfied with the amount of
time in a day and is there ever
enough of it left to just
soak.

today in the bath, i loosened my mental grip
and leaned into the grooves
of a younger brain as i stared
at my ***** hair

pulling it towards the sky
and in the place of coarse keratin
rose a tiny forest, on a tiny island,
with two, looming mountains
emerging out of the sea beyond.

i rose to a seat and embraced my
knees as my shins turned into
textured tree trunks.

the water still draining from around my ankles,
rinsing off the day, rinsing off the clock, i took special
care to give every part of me affection and attention,

i tickled my armpits and my *******,
kneaded in between my thighs,
hugged my shoulder blades.

and as i bent over to clean in between my toes,
i wondered how many people take the time
to wash their feet in the shower.