Cleaning House
If you've ever cleaned house because a death is coming,
you know it's the same as any other kind of cleaning.
Wipe the tables.
Pick up the floor.
Sweep the crumbs under the carpet.
For later.
And for the ants.
It's different, too.
Because you're floating.
On caffeine.
On muffled sympathies.
On the hum of voices in other rooms.
Set pieces start and stall between visits to the cleaning cupboard,
8 millimeter memories jerk and wave.
And, more than usual, the smell of Windex blends with thoughts of the meaning of existence.
Squirt
Squirt
Race to catch the drips.
you know it's the same as any other kind of cleaning.
Wipe the tables.
Pick up the floor.
Sweep the crumbs under the carpet.
For later.
And for the ants.
It's different, too.
Because you're floating.
On caffeine.
On muffled sympathies.
On the hum of voices in other rooms.
Set pieces start and stall between visits to the cleaning cupboard,
8 millimeter memories jerk and wave.
And, more than usual, the smell of Windex blends with thoughts of the meaning of existence.
Squirt
Squirt
Race to catch the drips.
"the smell of Windex blends with thoughts of the meaning of existence."
I imagine it would. Really liked this.
Very nice.
hugely effective.
Succinct and yet so telling. Nice.
The three lines re "floating" are direct hits, based on my experience. Reading it I feel etherial, untethered just like then. Perfect. Thanks for this piece!
Lots to think about. Great use of language.