I'm sure he'd bathe if he could. If his skin is as dirty as he
thinks it is, imagine what's happening under the surface.
Smelling epsom salt remember everything. You can hear
the conversation of bacterial socialites bursting in soap
She'd like to go swimming (if she could). The river is
coming from a mile back up the mountain, at a foot deep,
thirty degrees this way or that way, Celsius or phantom
grade. The water at the top moves along faster than
anything it catches, which gets pulled under the surface
I'll drown if I need to. That's the way that it works. I'll
drown if I have to! It's not what I want. That's not what it's
about. All things are afraid of the difference between
them: invisible, original, and enveloping.