I ushered in the New Year with a long, hot shower. Later I would reason the metaphorical premise of the act – washing away the sins of the past year to emerge renewed. But I just wanted naked warmth to hide in four tight, surrounding walls. Undisturbed besides the water drowning my thoughts.
But a shower is not like a rainstorm in that thoughts are inflamed instead of drowned so the unwelcome musings strut the walkways of tired minds like tacky parade floats chucking candies past adults resisting the urge to impale some half fulfilled dream on leaky, polka dot umbrellas.