Scrubbing the Toilet at 6 AM
Cleaning up the mess
left behind
by someone,
possibly even me.
It’s hard to remember
what happens
in the strangeness
of night.
I take my time,
make porcelain shine,
while doing what must
be done,
putting all the new ideas
that arrive in my head
into the movements
of the brush.
It is all art
if you want to see it
that way,
everything you do.
Same as with
the old monks
who viewed
all actions
as a form of prayer.
The results from
this morning’s efforts
may be as good
or better
than anything else
I have done
or could possibly do,
and I may have
saved the world
in the process
without ever
meaning to.
Horror Sleaze Trash 