The other morning when I got out of the shower, I began to shake so bad I couldn’t put my clothes on for at least two minutes; I practically went into convulsions, and I thought for a moment I was going to throw up in the sink.
Tonight I get in and the heater down in the basement is kicking it full force and I’m getting some boiling water out of this thing! Nice. I keep upping it. A section of my hip, without a doubt, is going to drop off the side of me. Everything in here will go through an enjoyable, painless process. I up it some more; it’s a little scary, like you’re breaking a law in the middle of the night in someone else’s country, committing the unforgivable. Here is relief from the cold, if just for a few minutes. What crime is there?
I start looking at the animals on the shower curtain – lions, jaguars, monkeys, cougars, elephants, and I’m thanking them in delirium – now it’s their turn to turn up the water just a little bit more. This is an important landmark, a well marked hospital I’ve come stumbling into; I get immediate treatment, and the cost is covered fully by some unknown benevolent force. This is as far as it gets and now I’m fused with mother nature and mother nature is telling me some good stories, and good stories, each of them, contain the best of all things, and all the competition, all of it, is stomped out. I’ve got the pedal to the floor on this thing. I’ve got showers at their best.
When I get out the heat will fall back off of my body like window sheets, panes of ice, trains and glades that hit the bottom and break through.
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