A candle burns. It flickers, amidst the heat and moisture.
The running water drowns out the electrical buzz of suburbia.
Forget the heater is running and start to fade away.
I reemerge in some far off place. A place that is quiet, and solemn.
Then the sun comes out in that place and warms my neck.
My fingers get pruny.
I realize that it was not a sun, but just hot water.
Turn the handle.
Grab the towel.
Then I fade away, and the shell reemerges.
I smile at you, staring at me from my bed.
No idea what's going on.
The shower, Yeats, you know, lake water lapping?
And you still have no idea what is going on.
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