I got dirt in my thoughts
My mind is not as scrubbed cleaned as you think
When you tell me to take a shower, I do not strip myself down
Face to face with my vulnerability, feeling the hot drops splattering my bare body
Instead I let the shower run, wasting water,
Making you think that I was carrying out your wishes.
Presently I say, "All finished!" And I turn the water off, tarry so it seems like I'm putting my clothes back on
And I skip out, blithe, light, free, that I didn't actually wash.
But then later in the day,
But then later in the day, You catch me.
I scream, I howl, I wriggle.
You gently cup my face and say,
"You still have dirt here."
“You really think you can fool me?”
I flush, ashamed, as you disappear into the bathroom and run the water. I want to run away, but guilt cements me in place.
You come back, I don't want to show my nakedness
But I do feel smelly and sticky and sad
So I do.
I hop in the hot water
And I sigh as you wash me
And the suds and water feel so good...
And the water turns brown
From all the dirt that is pouring away
From my bare body as you towel me dry,
Making me clean, sweet smelling, truly free.