“my” shower

to wash the day off, 12:05

waking up with soap in eyes

i’ve lingered here, the frosted glass

the hair-dyed floor,a fuchsia mess

and a week from now it won’t be mine

someone else’s soapy shrine

but while im here, i have the time

no college four-bed bathroom line

i’ve sat in here, i’ve cried in here,

but shower heads drown salty tears

and i am not a baby, but this feels like a womb

and for half-a-grand a month

i lead moist footprints out the room

and it feels like i own a planet

painted tiger like the moon

til an alarm starts to go off

and this ordinary faucet

is a hard well gone soft-

and i rinse all that i got

and maybe i will miss a spot

to remind myself of what it’s like

to be showered upon, plastic-crystal knob,

make sure the drain’s pushed down,

or else you’ll flood the floor, the closet-

make sure the drains pushed down,

or you just might lose your deposit.