To Bathe in Academia
Off comes the parka,
Flopped abruptly on the bed,
Representing idle warmth,
Conversation, passing glances.
Then you roll off both your socks,
A little damp with dread,
That pair of terrifying thoughts;
Sticky with the demise of innocence.
Then off with your t-shirt,
Still lingering at the neck and pits.
Next you unzip your bottoms,
which drop embarrassingly to the philosophical tiles.
Finally you slip off your undergarments;
And as you relax,
In the tea-tree mint suds of soliloquy,
You’re left only with the vital question:
Or not to be?