| OCR Text |
Show Smile Sweated into unions, through elbows, reamed, sanded, cored and greased. After soldering, the rose flux cools, and water is flushed through the spigot, against the spigot's internal screw, turning with the clock, against the clock, loosening, tightening upon a rubber ring. Water splashes around and down the basin slope through the drain hole, to the chrome coated trap beneath it. Lair of squeeze-tube caps, fingernails, and cakes of hair and skin flake, where phosphorous crusts up like fat inside veins, so that the water strains and falls. Rattling, gasping, the lines unbrazing, all of the intricate plumbing worn down. One day the knob will shear off between some crude knuckle and thumb. Yet I put my face down to the water-- recoil slowly from the rim in marvel of the reflection shrinking through the drain. |
