I jump in,
I jump out.
I turn the water on,
And it dribbles from the spout.
There is no temperature gauge,
I have to trust the setting.
With the shower head inches from the wall,
Receiving barely a wetting.
The button last all but a few seconds.
Who designed this tiny enclosure?
It’s as if the designer never showered,
Or didn’t think to do a once over.
Sure there’s a curtain,
Just watching water pass by
Nearly an inch of soaked floor
Has my head shaking, why?
Gotta save that space!
Every square meter counts.
Cramming four to a room
God forbid the closet was taken out.
I can’t raise my hands,
Without hitting a wall
This entire bathroom
Is smaller than a toilet stall.
Where do I put the bottle?
I guess they didn’t plan that ahead.
Drop it on the floor
And have to leave the shower instead.
If I reached down to pick it up,
my knees hit the walls.
It’s a good thing I’m skinny
Or I wouldn’t have washed my balls.
After leaning on the button
And pressing a hundred times.
Trying to rinse away my travel dust
And put moisture on my mind.
I managed a bit more than ten seconds.
I worked the designer’s little trick.
Who sets the water for ten seconds?
Dear designer, you’re a prick!
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