The exaltation sense burrowed energy, like dish detergent spotless;
The first sponge to the bubble dish, double hands, sweatless;
The face redirected to relegant recourse and recharge;
An apron relaxing in all the red lady bugs on green leafs large.
Quoting the neon powers of the dishwashers whallop whip, lollipop drain,
The mild smell of fish, odorous salmon lemon, course and de-boned fillet;
Yellow sponge deep fish diving into sinking metal cooling tap, wrapping;
Spaghetti tail, red wined cabonara sauce sticking to porcelain panning.
Cracking lettuce, dried red tomato lost, cesar bread crumbs on the dice;
On the window bothers the tiny black little after dinner fearless flies;
On the screen buzzing, stirring, bouncing like little rubber domestic balls;
I sing, the harmony from the my hands, dish-pan, grease, no gloves, no man.
copyright 2011
