Remodeling the Bathroom

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by Ellen Bass

If this were the last
day of my life, I wouldn't complain
about the shower curtain rod
in the wrong place, even though
it's drilled into the tiles.
Nor would I fret
over water marks on the apricot
satin finish paint, half sick
that I should have used semigloss. No.
I'd stand in the doorway
watching sun glint
off the chrome faucet, breathing in
the silicone smell. I'd wonder
at the plumber, as he adjusted the hot
and cold water knobs. I'd stare
at the creases behind his ears and the gray
flecks in his stubble. I'd have to hold
myself back from touching him. Or maybe
I wouldn't. Maybe I'd stroke
his cheek and study
his eyes the amber of cellos, his rumpled
brow, the tiny garnet
threads of capillaries, his lips
resting together, quiet as old friends—
I'd gaze at him
as though his were the first
face I'd ever seen.

Comments

  1. UnknownSeptember 24, 2009 at 5:40 AM

    I rarely feel the same way about teh contractors I hire.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Batteson.IndSeptember 27, 2009 at 6:19 AM

    love this!.. it makes you wonder if it is possible to live every day like it's your last, and the implications this might lead to, lol!

    ReplyDelete

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