cleanliness is next to godliness

[gdgdbaby]

I do my best work in the shower.
Something about the water running
In tiny rivulets down my back,
Streaks of white in my hair,
Bottle of shampoo in one hand
And a shower scrubber in the other-
Something about that
Puts me in a different state of mind.

It's like:
Your eyes close under the spray
And the darkness behind your lids
Somehow expands, reaches out
To the unexplored places in your head,
Dark corners, unfamiliar alleys
Where clutter's been pushed,
Festering for God knows how long until-
There.

It was always there,
Just waiting for you to find it again.

And then soapy suds run into your eyes
Or you slip on conditioner streaks on the floor
And your eyes snap open again,
The moment lost.
But the idea is still there, still stuck-
A particular turn of phrase, or a scene, or a sequence of events,
A memory of something that never happened.

(Or maybe it did
In some past life,
A half-forgotten dream.)