in chamber of fleshy colored tile are eight shower heads
girls stand in cones of moisture
their youthful limbs sliding through steam
plumes of laughter and gossip rise to damp ceiling
some stand silent under
tropical storms
she considers the demonization of the shower and feels
fortunate
there is a fine line between hot water therapy and burning
she
keeps nudging the control
one of these days she might pay for her discontent
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