2021-09-14T19:39:20-07:00May 29th, 2012|Musings on life|


When you write enough poems,
it is inevitable
that you will write one
about brushing your teeth.

Not because it is particularly poetic
but because you have trained your mind
to grope each moment

and this one comes around twice a day,
sweet tingle on your tongue,
familiar rattle of floss and mouthwash,
fastidious sweeping away of dinner
or the gluey stretch of night.

The way in India they scrub the front porch,
erasing any spiritual mischief,
telling Lakshmi and the others
that today,
just like yesterday,
they could use a little luck
if there is some
to spare.

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