The plastic cup so thin and clear

The plastic cup, so thin and clear,

a foreign water, held so near.

From the hotel sink, I let it fill,

a metallic edge, a taste to kill

the thirst, but not quite satisfy.

A city's plumbing, reaching high

into my mouth, a chlorine breath.

It's not the flat taste of my own,

this sharp, hard flavor, all unknown.

My tongue can feel the distant pipes,

the mineral content, different types

of sediment. Each swallow, stark,

leaves its peculiar, silent mark.

A strange intimacy, cold and deep,

the secrets that the faucets keep.