I never thought I'd like doing dishes
But in the thick of the dinner party
It's the one chance to get away
From the incessant chatter
Piles of cups don't talk, don't opine, don't persuade
Piles of plates just sit, waiting to be gently handled
Oh if only people were like dishes
Let me love you, let me clean you, let me touch you
Without saying a damn word
It's in the wiping off of grease with soapy bubbles
That I see a glimpse of immortality
In the pointless effort of cleaning
Only to get dirty again
Just like love, aint it
My hands welcome the warmth of the pliable sponge
The water runs smooth against my fingers
Fingers so used to hammering a living
On a keyboard
Damn words, words, words
So much fucking left brain
So much proving a point
So much making people laugh
So much, so much, so much
No, when doing dishes, there's none of that
It's just flowing water and nothing more
With no other point than cleansing
Feels good to me, speaks to me softly,
Touches that part of me that
Thrives beyond the limits of syllables
That's why I like to do dishes
Because it's a meditation nearly silent
On what we just had and what may come tomorrow
Or nothing at all ... the porcelain is cracked a little, but that's ok
What's for dessert?
There'll be more dishes after that
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