“Do You Sing in the Shower?”

September 10, 2017

            —internet questionnaire     



I hear in my head:

songs of discordant

dialogue with folks

that should fear my words,

I think, but won’t

because I never enter

this discourse aloud.


I take shorter showers,

let the stream erase me

quickly, before I drift

into arguments, angry.

I try to find a tune,

feel it in my gut

like breakfast eggs.


It struts & hums &

taps its foot.

It won’t come out

amidst the rain &

citrus smell of conditioner.


I cleanse faster.

I take furious showers,

steaming, like strumming

punk-rock chords

on a beat guitar.


I’m smashing the world

from my center stage.

I glide through the mist

spit out by fog machines.

I curse. I scream.

I turn the water off.

I take a bow.


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