he would lift the crystal handle of the valve and run his right hand down the faucet
under the water to feel the cold flush of october's icy wind
in that fleeting moment before the hot water heater had time
to force its angry cargo into the tub
it was his only means of relaxing, and he used it too rarely
if his hair was matted and oily Karen would eye him warily
and the children would always remember to play in another room
never asking where they'd left their shoes
in the bath he was a boy again
it was here he chuckled over his children's scattered bath toys
longed for ice cream and resolved to teach his son to dribble a basketball
the first time he struck one of them in anger was in a dream
too vivid to be real and too disturbing to be anything but an ill omen
he woke thinking of his father and trying to remember his face
no one saw it coming
least of all Will
sitting in his bath
dreaming of sunshine
and the open road
