I re-discovered an old habit today.
Hot water was drilling down my spine
as my extremities tarried in winter's cold.
Steam rose in translucent plumes about me
as I stood and stared at the drain;
angry torrents of colourless molecules
clamouring for the better seats
on their endless, thoughtless commute
through blind tunnels and inescapable voids.
I turned the shower pink.
I was not sure why but I enjoyed the art:
the statement of life amongst
well-ordered shampoo bottles
and the pristine white of the room;
a chance to claim substance again
after slipping into old routines
and falling off the face of the Earth.
The old habit came in an airport reunion;
a thrill of recounting long-healed scars
and that familiar embrace with an old friend
you thought you would never meet again.
I remember your smell, I know your taste.
I stopped shaving a long time ago.