i keep floss in my car,
but i don’t eat anything in there,
though somehow there’s always food crumbs
on my floorboard,
i suspect it’s a sparrow sneaking into my car
when i’m at work,
snacking away on a few kernels,
and of course the sparrow doesn’t
need to use my floss either
the morning after getting my ass kicked,
i find it the most difficult to go to the bathroom,
especially to sit down on a cold, hard porcelain
that does not care what my body has gone through,
what my mind has yet to grasp,
as i wince
and hope that no one else heard me
it’s been a long time
since i’ve drawn or painted anything,
and sure i’d like to pick up a paintbrush again,
even though i’m also certain what i would
have to paint wouldn’t be technically sound,
nor all that disciplined,
but i’d have acrylic under my nails once again,
and i might feel as if i made something,
even though i probably should have strangled it
before it got loose
Fred Aiken Writing 