Irrigation Irritation

Irrigation Irritation - by Kevin Kraemer

The water, exploding from the shower head, rampages through his dark, thick hair. For a split second before molding to his scalp, each individual hair quickly darts away as if attempting to avoid the sudden attack. His eyes remain open only for an instant as the river trickles sporadically down the front of his face, and although delayed, he shuts his eyes tight, building dams to block the flood from causing destruction. His whole world goes black. Reaching his mouth, he sighs externalizing his angst and pain, forcing the water to delve further past his unshaven face. All hairs on his arms and neck quickly stand at attention as the blistering cascades tumble down his scrawny exterior; the chills, a sense he has felt all too often, this time caused by the exceptionally hot water on his cold, pale skin. Why? he thinks to himself and leans back his head to catch these uncontrollable rapids. He adjusts his position from side to side, trying to leave his life only if for one moment of tranquility. With the perfect angle the water rushes past his left ear, and then his right, and then both as to cut him off from the universe. The water howls with a deafening, yet delightful voice as it envelopes him. He breathes shallowly through his nose, fighting the stray droplets from entering and with barely enough oxygen to insure comfort. There is a strong beauty in the forceful water and the boisterous sound and the unclean taste. His heart rate slows. The uneasy thoughts he had been bearing all day melt away just as easily as they had been collected and flow from his head, past his reddening cheeks, and are swept along the graceful river. After a few minutes, he is truly clean. Even though cleanliness on all levels has been reached, he is frozen and unable to break free of the trance this water has given him. A new hope in tomorrow is in his eyes, if only he could escape the soothing protection of the waterfalls. He coughs. The misty air becomes more and more humid by the second. He breathes heavier. The outrageous current running past his ears teases his equilibrium, tilting him to the side. His shoulder is braced by the soap holder and as he reacts to this change, his left ear pops, touching the steamy air for the first time in what seems an eternity of bliss. He straightens himself out and frees the other half of his body, regaining strength with every drop swirling down the shiny silver drain beneath his feet. And with that, the water is stopped.

© October 2005