He’s taking a shower,
Just like he has for
Fifty years.
Lather here,
Lather there,
The usual routine except that
For the last few months
He’s noticed that his
Soap bar, the same brand
He’s used since the seventies,
Is smaller and carved into
Some kind of strange
Space-age, high-tech shape.
Tapered in the middle,
Scooped out on top,
He can’t seem to get
More than a few days use
Out if it before it breaks
In half or dissolves.
Angry, he tries other brands
Only to find
They’re all the same,
Not an honest deal to be found
Any longer.
Uncontrolled hubris,
Little guy shafted.
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