Beware of towels. 
Minions of household cleansing,
ubiquitous as air,
their docile appearance belies
unquenchable thirst.
 
Never satisfied by our meager offerings,
they are ravenous for any moisture within grasp.
Liquids, sweet or fowl, soothing or corrosive,
all potential victims, indiscriminate
choices of their cravings.
 
Exotic fiber or domestic strand,
thick as wool or thin as dandelion spore,
they lie motionless as spiders,
waiting for a meal to cross their web.
A single touch can drain any vessel. 
 
They keep drinking
until gorged and bloated beyond capacity.
The last drop absorbed,
grudgingly sharing their excess
with atmosphere and gravity.
 
Laundered and refreshed
after a day of consumption,
warm and fragrant
from a cycle in the dryer,
addiction begins anew.