The slow drip drop of the shower is the sound and sign of dilapidation
Of negligence, falling at steady intervals onto the ceramic floor.
As the river flows over rocks
so do the droplets of shower water eat at the bar of soap residing mid-stream
A metronome you can turn off with the turn of a handle
Imagine if the flow of time could be adjusted this way
What kind of time would it be if we can make it rush, flow, drip, and cease on command?
No time at all or the time that belongs only to us?
From timid to timbuktu we would be lost
Struggling to find the meaning in between our lost intervals and our curtailed experiences.
So we let the metronome run, and let its foggy flow wash over us knowing that eventually the dripping of the showerhead will erode us as well, turning us into nothing but soap at the bottom of a tub.

All this begs the question. Who left the shower running and let the faucet drip?

Daniel Goldshmid is a first-year law student. They love to read and write and listen to music.