“The winter evening settles downWith smell of steaks in passageways.Six o'clock.The burnt-out ends of smoky days.And now a gusty shower wrapsThe grimy scrapsOf withered leaves about your feetAnd newspapers from vacant lots;The showers beatOn broken blinds and chimney-pots,And at the corner of the streetA lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.And then the lighting of the lamps.”

“You should shower," I said. "Right now.""I smell that bad?"Actually, he smelled that good.”

“Ranger’s gonna hate this,” Tank said. “Better to get shot than to have to explain the gate. Bad enough I got a horse that smells like his shower gel.”

“You're getting into some kind of shape, cop."Aw, come on, now." Butch grinned. "Don't let that shower we took go to your head."Rhage fired a towel at the male. "Just pointing out your beer gut's gone."It was a Scotch pot. And I don't miss it.”

“First I showered off that horrible butt smell you get from being on an airplane. [p. 257]”

“He pivoted, gaze following me as I crossed to the shower and turned on the cold water, so it would drown out our conversation without steaming up the room.Great," he muttered."Now they're going to think we're showering together. Maybe we can just tell them we were washing off the crawl space dirt and trying to conserve water.”