<?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />2 a.m., and the only sound in the dark

is the dripping of the shower head in the bathroom,

the smack on the rubber mat,

every six seconds.

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

Its regular as rain,

like a water clock,

or Chinese torture.

(Can I say that?)

I timed it by counting in thousands;

every six thousand, another plop.

I think of all those statistics;

theres probably something that happens

every six seconds:

a baby is born,

a crime is committed with a gun,

someone eats a fast-food burger.

Then the drops become liquid sheep

I count each one as it crashes to the shower floor.

But thats a messy image, smashed-up sheep,

mutton on the tiles,

and I give up after forty-three.

I really should get up, try to tighten the spigot,

muscle off the flow,

but it has become the excuse for my insomnia,

and I find myself anticipating

the next clockwork drop,

ten times

every minute.

07/19/2003

Posted on 07/20/2003
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt