Spa World

When your shoulder is stiff for a week
but you've got no one to ask to rub it
When your dreams are fractured for a night
but you've got no one to wake up to tell
You might ignore the dawn and
decide you're better off going back to sleep.
But the bed will still be empty and the shoulder will not stop whining.

You might have left the window cracked all night
in the hopes that the strong, soft hand of god
would slip in to hold you tight. If you are the praying type,
this just might work for you. But be warned:
Such a tactic might just let in January's serrated chill
to scar your dreams and score your skin.

Chances are, when day bangs against the pane
you will know you must rise and take care of your own damned self.

Make your lists of what you have learned so far.
Resist resistance. Brainstorm:

Hike Old Rag
Brunch with a friend
Elliptical
Bubble bath
Buy shoes
Plant something
Paint something
Punch something
Bake

But it is 19 degrees when the wind blows. Your shoulder groans.
Your dreams left a hole too deep and wide
for chocolate cake or Jimmy Choos.

Once you've loosened the tight seal of your mind,
you may remember talk of a Korean spa out your way.
If you are resourceful and can bark yourself awake,
you may stumble to your feet, find a phone, get dressed and go.

Within two minutes of arriving at the cavernous place,
you are naked and simmering in needle-hot tub.
All around you, slick hides of naked apes dip in and out of view.
Steam rises, oils are applied.
Sleepy eyes and stretching necks, girls with mamas and grandmothers too.
You book shiatsu, you don the uniform and climb the bamboo stairs.
A woman straddles your ass and cracks your spine,
her fingers a marvel.
She is small. She makes you howl. She will not speak.
It does not matter.
Your shoulder hurts far worse than before,
but you know this was how it had to be.

You step into a red clay hut set at 173 degrees,
recline on a sisal mat, and sweat out what is left of your pain.

You may remember to breathe.
You may remember you are simply meat and bone.
You may begin to let go.

Isn't this how it always is?
When you stop pleading
when you stop waiting to be saved
the hand slips in through a crack in the floor.
It carries you where you need to go.
It is the hand of god
and it is your own.