Grooming (poem left above the bathroom sink)

               


Such sharp and brittle fingers
    comb my hair.
        Within the narrows
            of each pit the speed stick ®
                leaves its scented spit. 
I turn and stare
     "behold a wet
            but lucky fool indeed."
Free of it's cap,
    fat in my palm,
        I grip the toothpaste tube.
    It gobs just with the stress
        till with a squeeze
            it spurts.
                I take a drip.
    The bristles
        fail to mold to my caress.  
I've shaved
    and yet again
        I gently wipe stale foamy cream
            that's seeped out of the spout.
And leaning in the mirror
    the fog I swipe
         to see if kisses
            show on lips I pout.
I'm off to work.
    You sleep.
        I have to fight the urge to crawl back.
            Thank you for last night.









 

Reviews

[Illegitimate Artist]

I can't put into words how inexplicably happy waking up and reading that would make me. Whoever did is very lucky. Its cute and touching. I love it!