You know how dreams sometimes combine the elements of your day(s) in odd ways? That's how I write poems, when I write poems. Lover, in the bath you grip me like a cat, my domestic airs forgotten as the water meets my hips before my toes are dipped. Shed hairs tickle your lips but you can't hold me down and brush them from your face without risking losing it if I should decide to scratch instead of splash.