rain air/whirl air

You rock, holding yourself under the scalding rain, the pulsing like thunderdrops against a garbage can or a seventies motel vibrating bed, so loud there's no hiding what you're doing in there. You let the water rattle a piece in that sore spot between your shoulders, then bending forward, as you must bend a little to see your toes these days, you let it cascade down your neck, swishing your hair away to feel the heat. There are your toes, red from scalding, there is your belly, and there is the rest of you, blushed and pleased. You arch back again and let that rattle pound on your head all the way up your part holding the heat there until the hot pounding sends wanting waves coming from your fingertips to your sextips to your tippytoes, let it come, let it come. You shiver and blink and wonder is this normal? But who cares, normal be damned, you do it again.