MOPPING IN LITTLE CIRCLES
I get bored easily and I don’t mind menial labor
But to do the same task every day or to do one thing for an hour?
In and out or up and down, the same few muscles working
And the rest lax – I just can’t do it.
Don’t ask me to sweep up because I won’t get into every cranny
And don’t ask me to mop
Because I’ll just go over the floor with broad strokes
And grand flourishes of swishing the mophead in the bucket of sudsy water.
Mopping in little circles, over and over until the floor is spotless
Is not something I am capable of doing,
Destined to live a life of dusty crannies and sticky floors,
The sounds of the mophead splashing in the suds merely for affect.
The door warped and unplanned forever, the bedroom walls never to be painted again.
MY BIGGEST FAN
My biggest fan was very drunk
And she kept telling me
I was her favorite living poet,
Letting the few around us know
That they just didn’t understand
My true greatness
And, as a bonus,
I was just so so handsome
With my well-seasoned beard
And eyebrows more expressive than most.
The young lady finished her sermon with a flourish,
Explaining that she definitely has daddy issues.
The best part, though,
Was when, blushing at the compliments,
I looked down at the floor and
She apologized that she hadn’t had a pedicure in a while.
Her feet looked cute anyway
And, without looking up,
I told her just that
And felt that hot feeling I get sometimes in my cheeks
When I get excited
As she spread her pudgy toes open
And lifted them off of the carpet,
Pointing them toward me
And also heaven.
TWO-NIGHT STAND
You tried to get her to come over again
But you made a joke of it,
Saving yourself the embarrassment
Of an honest No
So she didn’t say Yes or No,
She merely laughed
And that was somehow worse.
You weren’t ready anyway –
Already in your jammies
And your sheets needed washing
And the last and only time she came over
Was over four years ago
And she hasn’t been seen since.
You think about that
And you think about your hard-on,
About to do it yourself when you realize
Even you don’t feel like touching it right now.
Dumpster Fire Press 