OTHER PEOPLE'S

kitchens inspire me to new heights
of rule-making: clean up as you go along,
never leave dishes in the sink, certain things
should never go in the dishwasher, even though
they can. And more. But somehow looking down from this
bench and pronouncing, I start to wonder
if I could ever follow any of these rules
at home. Well, of course, the one about
not putting certain things in the dishwasher - I
don't have a dishwasher so that's elementary. Then
the one about cleaning up as you go along. I actually
can't do that, not at home, not in other people's
kitchens, I think I will but finally I just
get too tired and don't even try,
which leads to breaking the one
about not leaving stuff in the sink,
too. And I don't have a job, not one
that takes my time away from me, I have
work, work that I can do while doing dishes or
even mopping the floor - or I could, I definitely could,
if it should happen that I ever
mopped the floor. I don't
have kids at home or anyone but myself at home
to take care of. And yet
I can't abide by these rules. So now my new rule is
do
whatever you do
and love it. That's all. If the dishes pile up,
love that. Vincent
saw herself in light of
a neighbor's rules: she rests
before she does her dishes,
she forgets
what she got from you. I do too; from now on
I'll think about who this makes me: A poet? Hardly. A fuckup?
No. Maybe
at core,
human, and aware
that I don't know everything. Oh that's
so hard to accept.