Bathtub Blues

I am beginning to think that it is the

Bathtub where all great thoughts are had

Or maybe just where my most recent thoughts are had

Quandaries about what the hell I’m doing here

Ponderings about what the hell I’m doing next

Questionings about what the hell I’m supposed to be doing

Confessions about how inadequate I feel

And quietly underneath all of that

Prayers that I don’t realize are being whispered

Little tinklings of thoughts that are no more than

Fleeting snippets of prayers sent off unawares

Because I don’t know what to pray for anymore

And I don’t really know who I’m praying to anymore

And the more I try to feel bad about that

The more I feel okay about that

And it is there in the bathtub that I don’t have to try

I don’t have to pretend to be excited

I don’t need to smile to make you feel better

I don’t want to fake encouragement

Because my only concerns are my pruning toes and

Not getting the pages of my book soggy

As I step out of the claw foot tub

I feel solid ground returning

The responsibility flooding back

The pressure from outside the bathroom door

And as the water loudly drains down the pipe

I find myself wishing the water hadn’t turned cool

Because it is much easier to deal with a world where

Keeping all the water in the tub is your biggest problem