Cleansing

I step out of the steamy shower, shivering, and reach for the towel.

It’s a dirty towel, weighted with abstract grime and second skins.

Perhaps I could get a new one, or have it laundered.

But, life is neither a gymnasium nor a laundromat.

Some people never sweat, never get dirty.

Some people never feel fatigue’s subtle stench deep inside their bones,

Weighing down their heart.

These people have no need of showers,

But they take them anyway.

I am one of those souls in dire need of daily cleansing.

I am one of those souls who should shower everyday.

But I don’t.

Because I am one of those souls who revels in yesterday’s soils.

Because I am one of those souls who dislikes forgetfulness.

I mop the pristine rivulets with my dirty towel.

It passively accepts its lot in life.

Absorbing, forever absorbing,

Burnishing away the past’s decay.

When finished I stand stripped clean

And welcome another downward day.