Shower curtain

 

all I had was a hot shower

the luxury of steam clouding the

cold damp orange bathroom

with a towel waiting for me that never dried

down the hall was a bedroom 

a garret in a cut up house

with a broken window which

the cold air poked its fingers through

a bed a desk and a chair

where I sat with lonely sad pornography

and a printed photograph

of a love whose visa had expired

the hint of a creative career behind me

and now more unnecessary education

a poorly paid job

and a sad mother dropping a sad man back

there was no reason to leave the shower

the timeless warm comfort

the simplicity of soap and skin

and a task we can all get right

to turn off the tap and watch the steam fall

like a needle lifting off a record

and returning to crackle

to let the cold air back in

this is where I was when the text came

a two part text that stopped me still

it said I was going to be a dad

and I knew this wasn’t good enough