I saw the water,
Brown with anonymous entities floating about.
I remembered that year when they told us
That the water’s contaminated, that only
Those who drank water from X
Are likely to go to the hospital
Hell, who would know from which dam did your
Tap water come from.
I saw the water,
I looked at the water cooler
The ones I only saw in a publishing office
In a foreign country when I was eight.
Now they are casually standing in our home
The waterman (as I love to call him)
Comes every Friday, interrupting our early breakfast
That I promise every week not to be part in
For sleeping in purposes
But I still do.
The waterman brings us the blue bottles that
Make me lose a life or two as I lug them
To the kitchen
My mom watching, warning me to check if the plastic
Bags covering them are dripping.
How can I check with 2 gallons of water
Held in one hand and a nagging voice behind.
The water cooler is the place
Where my brother and I casually meet
He says I never have the time to talk
I say… I’m writing
He says whatever
I say I have to go
The water cooler is only three meters away from the sink
Yet, late at night when I wake up
I run to the tap and cup my hand under the waterfall
And drink like a thirsty animal
I remember at that moment what they told us about the water
The germs, the Jews — yes they’re always in the story
But I cannot stop myself.
It is satiating.
It fills me like never before
I feel it run down my throat and into my stomach
It seems like a lifetime though it’s not even
A cup’s worth
Like our early breakfasts, when I promise myself I won’t wake up,
I promise myself that next time I’d wake up
At 2 or 3 am
That I’d bring myself to pour myself a glass of water
From the water cooler, yet
I cannot. It is just not in me.
Filed under: Inspiration | Tagged: promise, tap, water, Water cooler | 2 Comments »