sitting on the floor of the shower
running the water from
it's hottest hot
to
it's coldest cold
thinking
hurting
the happy medium
between hot and cold
finds me in a ball
with the water as a blanket
like the warm salty wind of the Massachusetts air.
the water disguises my tears
even to myself
and I am just fine
with this avoidance
this hidden anguish. 

September 9, 2005