I am naked.

Bare feet on cold tile

outside a glass door.

Waiting.

My hot water tank is old.

Like me.

We’ve both needed repairs

in the last few years.

In these moments, I pray,

the way I do every morning

that my shower head and my body

will work the way they should

and I can step sprightly into

a tiled white stall,

feel warmth gushing down,

and lather myself with gratitude.