Ode to my shower
O! Shower.
You are better than the next bestest thing in my house
You never refuse me hot water when I demand it;
I love to stand, scalding, scorching, under your firey glare.
You are the reason for mornings
(And evenings, and those times when I am awake in the night).
In the summer, you keep me calm when it is too warm to breathe
In the winter, you make me warm enough to breathe
And fill the bathroom with steam so thick it might be smoke.
And I do not even mind when, half-conscious, I get in
Having forgotten to take my makeup off the night before, and get out
Looking like a boiled panda.
In my next life, I would like to be a lobster in a fancy restaurant,
Because sometimes, in this life, I cannot get your dial quite high enough
To broil me for quite long enough.
The only thing I do not like is when, unthinkingly,
My housemates flush the loo, or fill the kettle,
And I am plunged into a sudden, breathtaking world of ice and needles
And I have to leap backwards, cursing, laughing, twisting out of the way,
Halfway through washing my hair. (Forgetting to finish washing it, and wondering
For the rest of the day why my hair feels so sleek, is always
My own fault.)
O! Shower.
You are better than the next bestest thing in my house
You never refuse me hot water when I demand it;
I love to stand, scalding, scorching, under your firey glare.
You are the reason for mornings
(And evenings, and those times when I am awake in the night).
In the summer, you keep me calm when it is too warm to breathe
In the winter, you make me warm enough to breathe
And fill the bathroom with steam so thick it might be smoke.
And I do not even mind when, half-conscious, I get in
Having forgotten to take my makeup off the night before, and get out
Looking like a boiled panda.
In my next life, I would like to be a lobster in a fancy restaurant,
Because sometimes, in this life, I cannot get your dial quite high enough
To broil me for quite long enough.
The only thing I do not like is when, unthinkingly,
My housemates flush the loo, or fill the kettle,
And I am plunged into a sudden, breathtaking world of ice and needles
And I have to leap backwards, cursing, laughing, twisting out of the way,
Halfway through washing my hair. (Forgetting to finish washing it, and wondering
For the rest of the day why my hair feels so sleek, is always
My own fault.)