Naked Room
I sat on the floor of the shower today after work, curled up in the corner with my eyes closed and my mouth open and conditioner-slippery hair sliding slowly around under the steady water.
Marsha has found me like that before - just sitting in the shower. It's the most comfortable thinking place I know of. Hot water and cool air and steam all around, singing incomprehensibly. She just came in and opened the door - "What are you doing?" - and I smiled - "Meditating." Secure little box full of warm rain, and he on the other side of the partition, babbling happily about nothing in particular while she brused her teeth.
Quality time of the holiday- the wee hours of the morning, half asleep and clumsy, sincere nonsense of the merged worlds of sleep and wakefulness; lingering in the bathroom before work, sitting on the dryer and watching you as we talk, or not talk. Maybe just watching one another.
Marsha has found me like that before - just sitting in the shower. It's the most comfortable thinking place I know of. Hot water and cool air and steam all around, singing incomprehensibly. She just came in and opened the door - "What are you doing?" - and I smiled - "Meditating." Secure little box full of warm rain, and he on the other side of the partition, babbling happily about nothing in particular while she brused her teeth.
Quality time of the holiday- the wee hours of the morning, half asleep and clumsy, sincere nonsense of the merged worlds of sleep and wakefulness; lingering in the bathroom before work, sitting on the dryer and watching you as we talk, or not talk. Maybe just watching one another.
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