Pour Me A Tumblr

Dusty Toes

I just moved to a new place. Fresh paint, new furniture, retro double oven, deep sinks, impeccable water pressure. But the floors. The floors are furrowed with dust from decades ago. I walk barefoot along these floors because they are cold and it is hot outside. The little dust puffs find their way into the space between my toes.  I have no choice but to drag these dust mites into bed with me at night, shut my eyes, and hope to have fresh dreams.

I rub my feet together before getting under the covers and I can feel particles flick off, but I know they’re still there. If not on the bed, then under, and I have to sweep to get rid of them. But even still, the grainy wood swallows these pieces of skin, split ends, cereal crumbs, outside dirt. And I breathe them inside. And they follow me through lovers, and to newer apartments still.

I sweep, and I mop, I eat my cereal over the sink, and I shower with the hard water pressure, I plastic wrap every piece of furniture. And I walk with socks on in the clean, new apartment. But still, I can’t shake the dust.

WORDS PUT TOGETHER THAT I LIKE

from Homage to the San Francisco YMCA by Richard Brautigan

He decided to take the plumbling out of his house and replace it with poetry, and so he did.

He turned off the water and took out the pipes and put in John Donne to replace them. The pipes did not look too happy. He took out his bathtub and put in William Shakespeare. The bathtub did not know what was happening.

He took out his kitchen sink and put in Emily Dickinson. The kitchen sink could only stare back in wonder. He took out his bathroom sink and put in Vladimir Mayakovsky. The bathroom sink, even though the water was off, broke out into tears.