I Lay There In the Dirty Bath Water

I lay there in the dirty bath water; unable to raise myself up, like a dog in quicksand, I wondered if I should just yelp, or die, as the grey water ran into my dream and eye I must have pulled something, a muscle, a nerve, or a bank heist, it wasn’t clear this must be the same as having a stroke, I thought; not being able to use one side, a baby, a dog, waiting for help. And when I eventually rolled myself out, and the arm came back to life, I vowed never to bathe again, unless it was with my wife.