021913

Cleaning the House Before a Party


I drop a crumpled paper napkin,
which bounces off the trashcan rim,
score two sharpies that belong beside the
phone.

I cruise the public rooms;
disorder lurks beyond my reach:
on the floor, beside her chair,
on shelves a reach too high.

I sympathize now with short women;
I'm like the 4-foot ones,
except they have 10 working fingers,
can climb, bend over, get out of bed alone.

No one likes a whiner; I don't,
too aware that life could be much worse.
Door bell rings, I shout “Come in!”
You don't like clutter? Stay home!


End