Eight O’Clock at Night

Eight O’Clock at Night

Sitting here
listening to cars
on the street
the water
draining out of the bathtub
slow and full of burps

the old pipes
struggling to digest
the onrush.
I step out
the tile floor
slippery. I use my toes
I draw the bath mat

while outside the rain
steps up pace
falling hard
on the cars that pass outside
in the slick dark street

shadorma chain

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