Eating in the Shower
The drain filled with hair and
the rings ring around
the brown tub inches thick
with water
we can barely stand to stand inside
But if you want I will lick vanilla off your legs,
make you a salad in the sink
by shaving carrot skins
with safety blades—
then would we still cry in the shower?
In all seriousness
should I comb my hair forward or back?
The way these looks look on me
the way I seem in a button-up
you would never guess my absence of organs
Your body feels newly nice
I want to sing happy birthday
so we can remember that once I sang it in the bathroom,
but you say we can’t bake a cake
with all this steam in the air.
Then I say, “what if I sit
in the corner by the air vent,”
across, there is the toilet,
adjacent, the shower curtain, and behind it
you still have no comfort.
