Ah, the shower,
That moment when oxytocin surged
Right after Tennessee’s dust settled…
In a truck stop of all places.
The hippie weekend was over,
Waking to a dripping tent was done,
Five dollars and fifteen minutes
Brought cleanliness to this worn soul.
It’s true, a saw buck can go a long way,
Never so true as it did on a Sunday after days in the dust
Being serenaded by the winds of change
And a lack of care for personal hygiene.
A Rubik’s cube puzzle of parking
Could not keep travelers land locked.
A rush to move up travel times
Could not prevent the risk of showering at a gas station.
Truth is it didn’t matter who went before,
The shower could have been a high school locker room,
But it wasn’t, it spurt a sort of water,
The kind meant to anoint those seeking relief from doubt and loneliness.
So it was back in ought-seven
When the foggy steam on the mirror and sweating tile walls
Gave clarity to this soul looking only for peace and renewal,
All that came for nothing more than a fiver in the greatest shower ever.