The patterns in my bath
Look like a leopard,
All mottled and swirly
Like a drunken shepherd.
If I move my legs
A tiger appears,
Straighter and stripy
As if you’ve had less beers.
It all merges together
When I go under,
Like a flock of flamingos
Hiding from thunder,
But when I get out
(Now this bit sounds mad)
I look below me
And there’s a map of Baghdad.